


Maybe This Time

by pretense



Category: Big Time Rush
Genre: Challenge on Infinite Earths, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-16
Updated: 2013-06-16
Packaged: 2017-12-15 03:29:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 57,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/844780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pretense/pseuds/pretense
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's gotta happen sometime. Jagan-centric oneshots, occasional Kenlos.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hogwarts

**Author's Note:**

> _A/N: This is my Jagan response to the Challenge on Infinite Earths. It's a 30-day challenge where you take your favorite ship (or character(s)!) and place them in various "what if" scenarios and alternate universes. Feel free create artwork, graphics, stories, playlist or anything in between while exploring how different environments could potentially create a new experience for characters._   
> _I am sucker for happy endings so expect them to be mostly fluff and, well, happy endings~_
> 
> _**Disclaimer:** Big Time Rush, it's characters and themes, do not belong to me. I am not making money off this fic, but if I did it'll be spent on plane and concert tickets to see the band. :)_

This particular Saturday starts up with a horrified scream from the dungeons.

Elsewhere, a dark-haired Ravenclaw snuggles deeper into the covers though the smile on his lips isn't something that he'd get the chance to savor for long. An insistent  _tap tap tap_  comes from the window, waking up the other dormers. Outside is a fierce-looking owl with curving gray feathers, its golden eyes trained on the sleeping teen.

"Logan! Oi, Logan!"

Stirring awake at the call, Logan rolls over to voice a question that gets stifled around a yawn. Then he sees the owl outside his window. An energizing shock runs its course through his body and he jumps out of bed to let the messenger in. The animal is as haughty as he remembers, perching on the window sill and sticking out its leg for him to take the small scroll attached to it with a slim green ribbon. Once freed of its duties, the owl does a prim turnaround and flies off.

"That is one prissy owl," comes a bemused comment from the other boys.

 _You should meet its owner_ , Logan thinks, smirk tugging at his lips. He unrolls the parchment, eager to know if it's another fashion tip copied (and annotated) from Witch Weekly or his moving photograph of the week but there are only two words that take up the space:  _Library. Now._

The normally flowing longhand is jittered – a clear sign of anxiety – and Logan's suddenly fearful of what might have happened.

 

* * *

Fifteen minutes later and Logan is scouting the empty library's Astronomy shelves; it doesn't take him long to spot the lone figure idling by the dusty tomes. The hood throws him off for a bit, but the quiet humming he hears as he comes nearer cements his conclusion.

"Hey," Logan announces his presence in a soft tone.

The other guy whips around, as soon as his hazel eyes find Logan a look of relief washes over him. He rushes forward, enveloping the Ravenclaw in a tight hug.

Warmth floods Logan's cheeks as he returns the embrace. He looks up, ready to solve whatever problem James would present, though he already has an inkling. "Is this about Quidditch later on?"

The first match of the quidditch season was due at noon; Gryffindor versus the defending champions, Slytherin. It would be James' first match as the team captain and Logan knows how much it means to him.

"Well, yes and no," James answers evasively, his face coloring red as he looks away.

Logan eyes the athlete meaningfully, willing his best friend to spill it out through sheer force of will.

A frustrated noise leaves the pouted lips and James steps back, gripping Logan's shoulders to look him in the eye. "Don't laugh, okay?"

"Hey, what are friends for – WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU?!"

"Shhhhh!" James cups both his hands over Logan's mouth, eyes wide in fear of being heard by the vulture of a librarian that they had. He’s in no position to be seen by anyone, darn it!

Big brown eyes were glued to the glaringly – and Logan never thought he'd ever use the word in relation to his best friend –  _hideous_  neon green glow of James' nonetheless perfectly styled hair. He pushed James' hands off of him and hissed, " _What did you do_?"

Panic settles over the handsome face as James rushes his story. "It's Lucy's fault! She and jerkface Kendall were psyching me out about the match yesterday like I don't already know the legacy I'm supposed to uphold here. I tried to take your advice of not letting them get to me – got my lucky comb and mirror to style the stress away but. they. went. and. insulted. my. hair.  _My hair, Logan!_  And that's when it got personal. I told them – I told them I'd kick their sorry asses at today's game and I'd look damn good while doing so." Here, James stops and huffs, looking mighty pleased at his declaration.

Logan, meanwhile, finds it a little hard to put two and two together. "So… how did that make your hair green?"

The reminder takes James back to present time and he continues. "Well, I woke up this morning with the best idea ever on how to stick it to that sneaky little seeker.  _I_ " James points at his face "will wear her style a gazillion times better than she could ever dream of."

"Her what?"

"Streaks, Logan, streaks."

Uncertain eyes stare at the neon abomination of a hair color on his best friend and Logan feels the beginning of a migraine.

"Jett even agreed that it would be a good look on me–"

"What does Jett _know_?" Logan massages his temple in frustration. "He's the one that grew out a seven-foot beard when we were supposed to be changing eyebrow colors!"

James' expression grows thoughtful, remembering the incident from a week back. "Oh yeah…" Then he shakes his head as to clear off the thought. "But, see, Logan, this is why I need you!" His whispers are urgent, pleading eyes focused on the exasperated face before him.

"I'll see what I can do," Logan acquiesces, blushing a bit because James' wording is not lost on him.

"Yay!" James is giddy with excitement and he pulls Logan close for another hug. Leaning back, he fixed Logan with the most serious stare he could manage. "We got four hours to re-pretty me."

 

* * *

Logan manages to right the transfiguration spell just in time. Their shouts of triumph are loud in the empty classroom and without conscious effort or planning, James is suddenly in the middle of a kiss with his equally shocked best friend. Jumping apart, they stare at the other for a long and tense second.

"Um, thanks," James squeaks out, a full on blush on him.

"Any time," Logan replies in the same self-conscious voice, looking up through his lashes at James and his back-to-normal hair.

The silence is starting to stretch again when James blurts out. "I don't think I can stomach lunch right now." Logan raises a brow at this and James hurries his next line. "But I can join you? Or you can sit with me and the team? Or, psh, let's just forget about the Great Hall! Carlos showed me this trick with kitchen and some painting, and we can totally get our own lunch from–"

"Hey," Logan cut in gently, charmed by James' flustered attempts of asking him to lunch. "It's okay… You should be with your team, o great captain."

"Then sit with me." James grabs Logan's hand, flashes his trademark winning smile. "The food is seriously better at the Slytherin table, ask anyone."

The handholding is nothing new but the underlying current in the familiar touch is suddenly brought to the surface. They hold their breaths for half a second, eyes searching the other's face for a stop sign. When they find none, their smiles turn megawatt and their fingers secure their grip.

 

* * *

With the team all set, James disperses their huddle and prepares to set out to the field… but before that…

Green robes billow as James peeks out to find Logan loitering nearby – just as James had made him promise at lunch. James walks over, Firebolt in hand, decked out in his Chasers uniform.

"If you keep me here any longer, I won't be able to get a good seat to watch you win," Logan says. He's dressed down to his casuals, still in Ravenclaw colors, but there's a green flaglet stuffed in his back pocket and the sight of it makes James' grin widen.

"I'll just say it then," James nods to himself. He stands right in front of Logan, reaching out to hold the shorter teen's hands. "Can I – No, may I – Wait…"

Logan chuckles, squeezing James' hands minutely to calm his nerves. "Go on."

Those brown eyes were shining up at him, filled with mirth that tugged the corners of Logan's mouth in the most adorable smile. James decided to just lay it out. "Will you give me a good luck kiss?"

For a second, Logan thinks he heard it wrong but the look in James' eyes are so certain and hopeful that the butterflies in his stomach whirlwind into a force that leads him to rise on tiptoes and deliver the requested kiss.

It was brief, more like a peck or a press but it was better than anything James has ever experienced and the fact that it has Logan grinning at him like that was enough reason to enjoy it.

"Now go out there and win this thing."


	2. Zombies

It's bitingly cold up here. The rusty atmosphere grates at his nostrils and he squints his irritated eyes trying to see through the darkness; the hazel irises are now nothing more than a shadow of their pre-apocalyptic luster. Over the ledge, he surveys the sprawling city with a critical gaze – it's almost impossible to tell the damages that would differentiate yesterday from the one before. If anything, it's the nauseous stench that tells him things have only slumped further into the desolate spiral that has become the norm. Faintly, he hears the disembodied moans that send him on a crash course through the worst memories of the past six months.

_Gustavo calling to warn them of the impending crises only to be cut off as he's overtaken by the first wave._

_Purgatorial traffic in the streets and chaos in every home as the news broke out._

_Griffin and his daughter taking off in their jet; leaving the band, the executives, and poor injured Kelly to fend for themselves._

_Bitters locking up the Palm Woods. The Jennifers never making it back from an audition. Buddha Bob delivering one last supply run before the horde finally got to him. The graying skin and yellowed eyes of the zombies pressing in, smearing blood and rotten parts all over the place, surrounding the building from all sides._

_Mama Knight bitten as they made their escape in search of a better hide out. Katie having to watch her mother succumb._

_Seeing, hearing, feeling the explosion coming from the Palm Woods area._

His breaths turn ragged. Every gasping exhale scratches his dry throat as the visions swarm him, a mental invasion that he has no way of stopping. He wheezes, clammy palms gripping the ledge tighter as his knees lock. It's a one-step shortcut to the ground floor, just one small push and this whole nightmare will be over.

"James are you up he–? JAMES!"

Bodies thud against the cement flooring, displacing the stack of cardboard boxes as the force of the collision brought the young men away from the boundary. Dust whirlwinds around them, bringing a coughing fit to both. Amidst the tangle of limbs, James finds himself pinned down by the shorter man.

"What the hell were you doing?!" Logan demands, voice pitched high in worry. His calloused hand is twisted into the front of James' t-shirt, expressions of panic and anger warring on his face. "James! Say something!"

Hearing Logan's voice, feeling the solid warmth of his body, James' feelings of hopelessness only grows. He can't even afford to fake being apologetic about what he'd been planning to do. He can't stand this, it's been too crazy and there's no use thinking things could ever go back to normal. James stares at Logan – at the permanent bags under his eyes, his unkempt hair, prominent collarbones, the flecks of blood everywhere, his right arm ending in a stump at the elbow…

Logan's eyes were wild, lips curled back to expose teeth, harsh breaths falling over James' stunned form. "Get up!" He pulls the both of them up on their feet, making sure that he's between James and the afterlife. With a quick glance, Logan surveys the younger man, trying to get an answer in the worn clothes and dirt-smudged skin but finding none. " _James_!"

Maybe it's the pleading tone underneath the frustration that finally gets James to speak up. "I… I just can't t- _take_  any more of this…" It's no excuse, but the fragmented words are the truth. "Let's just face it, okay? T-There's no way–"

"What about us? The rest of us trying to survive this hell? Kendall and Carlos and Jo and Camille and–"

"Key word is  _trying_ , Logan! Look at this!" James spreads his arms to indicate the god-forsaken environment. "We can't keep this farce of a life forever."

"If you can't beat them, join them? Is that it, Jamie?" Logan snaps. "You're just gonna throw all the progress we'd made–"

"What progress?" James cuts in derisively. "I'm not made for this kind of thing! Look at me! Look at you!" He jabs a finger at what's left of Logan's arm, the price paid for one especially disastrous run-in with the undead.

The look on Logan's face is one that nobody has ever been allowed to see – anger and loss and most of all shame. Logan was their science buff, everyone relied on him to get them through this larger than life catastrophe. The panic he got into when rotten teeth tore into his flesh had the whole team playing tug-of-war for his life. Things never did get easy starting from there. That was when the reality of the situation really dawned on them – with the precise chop of an axe and a scream that rang in their ears for hours.

Realizing what he'd said, James bites his lip and looks away. Standing against the skyline on this full moon night, he looks all the more helpless.

Logan's shoulders sagged, eyes lowered to the foot of space between them.  _What about us?_  he wants to ask but knows that now is not the time, that there will never be a time. So he turns around and rights his posture with a heavy sigh. "I'll take over the night watch. Get down there and sleep."

The wind howls, James' dirt-caked boots shuffle as he watches Logan rearrange the cardboard boxes to serve as furniture.

Dragging a box over to build a make-shift couch, Logan freezes as a particularly loud chorus of groans echo in the night. He fights a shiver and the urge to vomit stale biscuits, closing his eyes to refocus his thoughts. Then the final piece for the cardboard couch slides into place.

_I'm sorry_ , James is saying with his eyes. The thin line of his mouth holds a promise of  _I won't do it again_. A hesitant touch to the shoulder and James finally asks, "Can't I just stay up here with you?"

"I thought you hated the cold?" Logan replies, straightening up.

"I'll survive." James attempts a smile and Logan lets himself believe it.

"We will."


	3. Medieval

One look at the colored glass panes and James quickly averts his gaze, adjusting the collar of his attire to breathe a little easier. The stares of those immortalized figures were bearing down on him, seeing through the finest clothes and years of etiquette training his family’s wealth could afford.

The prim taps of leather soles mingle with the murmurs filling up the marbled structure. Layered dresses allow the women to seemingly glide their way around the hall, powdered faces hidden behind lavish feathered fans. Their eyes latch on to him every now and again, not-so-secret smiles hoping to catch his attention.

James makes an effort to appear engaged in the event, more for his mother’s approval than anything else. She’s the one who made this whole charade of showing off her eligible son. His avoidance of the matter for the past months have been a great strain on their relationship (or lack of it) and the realization he’d come upon a mere few weeks back pushed the Dame to her limits. No protest could sway the woman’s decision and James knows in his hearts of hearts that his mother is only doing the rightmost act to ensure the maintenance of their prestigious title.

But another thing he knows is that the emotions stirred within him by the neighboring Earl’s son is reciprocated. Very thoroughly, he should add. James’ feet stop moving as the memory of laughs and smiles and kisses – the sweetest and best he’s ever known – clear up his troubled mind. Almost immediately, the empty feeling beside him is magnified a thousand-fold and the blush coloring his cheeks retreat into pallor.

He’s expected to choose a wife.

Gulping, James looks around. His mother is entertaining the older guests – lords and knights and viscounts, the sort of dignitaries James is expected to compare with in a few years’ time. With the luncheon ended just a few minutes back, all the guests were milling about the grand ballroom; the young women in particular were hoping for James’ approach. Music played from the ensemble on their stage, it was a song that James had played on his recorder for Logan once and if he dared to be so bold, James would’ve claimed it as their song.

A hair-raising feeling prickles the back of James’ neck and he turns to find one of the ladies looking right at him. He pauses, meeting the daring look that started to tinge with nervousness the longer they maintained eye contact.

Her brown hair curls past her shoulders, resting on the red fabric of her dress. She smiles and takes a few stammering steps closer, eyebrows slanting in distress at her lack of finesse but James finds her pout rather charming, especially with those dimples showing... wait.

James rushes to assist the “lady”, offering an arm for her to take while his eyes refuse to leave the familiar face. He can’t believe this, mostly because he can’t believe how he actually thought it was a woman in those first few seconds.

“What are you doing?” James asks lowly, noticing how their heights are a little closer now, which only means –

“Winning you over,” is the smirking response.

They stare at each other for a second until James gives a begrudging laugh. Noticing the eyes of everyone else in the room on him and his apparently chosen companion, James leads the way to a more private space to converse. “When I told you about this I expected you to ride in with a white horse and whisk me away,” James says, grinning wide. “Where did you even get these?” He trails his fingers down the other’s arm, feeling the velvety fabric.

“It’s Lady Knight’s.”

James’ eyes bug out. “She  _knows_ –?”

“Nah. Kendall so nicely borrowed them for me.” Logan flashes another dimpled smile.

“So this is another Kendall plan.” The wry amusement in James’ tone goes out to their friend. He makes a mental note to thank the guy later but for now he settles for holding Logan close. Logan smells different, sickeningly sweet when James breathes him in but the arms that wrap around his waist in response does wonders in assuring him of the reality of their situation.

Gently, James tilts up Logan’s face and presses their lips. Pigmented cheeks color brighter and Logan melts into the calm thunders of their heartbeats pressed so close. Hands slide seamlessly up James’ back, fingers sifting through expensive cloth to feel the masculine form beneath.

The waxy taste of Logan’s painted lips is new but the sensations they trigger bring a most cherished comfort to him. Parting for the moment, James’ hand caresses its way up Logan’s cheek, pinky finger poking at his dimple. Quiet laughter is breathed between them, hooded eyes sharing meaningful looks as James traces the curve of Logan’s jaw, moving down to his neck. Fingers finally clasped at the young lord’s nape and Logan takes the cue to initiate another kiss.

“Ahem.”

They split apart at the sound, horrified at being discovered until they found a blond teen lurking behind a nearby column. “You know they’re going to be suspicious when the young Duke returns with lips colored like our dear lady over here, right?”

“So what?” James huffs, pulling out a kerchief to wipe at his mouth; he was annoyed at the interruption but their friend did have a point. And this was technically Kendall’s doing in the first place so he kind of owed the guy something.

Kendall smirks, nodding at Logan who smiled back. “Try not to ruin that dress, okay? It has sentimental value.”

“I’m not doing anything,” Logan replies, smoothing out the skirt to ease his conscience.

“Right.” Kendall looks between the two of them. “Because I have never seen how James would tackle you to the ground and – last time I counted – it was 3 seconds before your tickle fights take a turn for, well, I don’t have to say it, do I?”

“Why are you really here?” James asks pointedly.

“Oh yeah.” Kendall snaps his fingers and smiles that annoying smile. “Dame Brooke is asking around about Lady in Red here, and pretty soon she’ll find out she’s not actually a viable candidate.”

“Hey, I am totally good son-in-law material,” Logan argues.

A quick drop of his eyes at the dress and Kendall doesn’t even have to say a word.

Logan  _hmph_ s and crosses his arms. “Well–”

“Look, I’ll just tell dear old mother the truth,” James announces. “That way we all live happily ever after.”

“Except that she’s kind of looking for your bride, not groom.”

“So what am I supposed to do?” James groans.

“You” a sharp voice comes from behind them “are going to pick a wife.”

The Lady of the estate is walking up to their corner and she doesn’t look pleased. “Good day, Kendall...” She regards him austerely before turning those sharp eyes on “ _Logan_.”

“Best of afternoons, Dame Brooke,” Kendall and Logan chorused, though the latter’s voice comes out in nothing more than a squeak.

Brooke strides over in quick regal steps until she’s right beside James. “Dear boy, don’t try to make this simple matter complicated.”

“But,” James forces out the next line, barely controlling himself from cowering before her as he’s wont to do. “I don’t want any of those women! I’m in–”

“In this society, it’s never about what any single individual wants,” Brooke admonishes. “It’s all about carrying on the family legacy, ensuring that our honor will be defended for generations to come.”

Logan winces as James’ hand grabs onto his, clutching tightly, but it’s the tremors running through each digit that has him worrying. He squeezes back, giving what comfort he could afford.

“Why can’t you just let me be with the one I love?” James grits out, eyes misting over at his mother’s unforgiving stare.

“Because love is always second to duty,” Brooke states, looking at each of the boys in turn. “Political alliances are what keeps this county running. I’m not asking you for much, dear, but you really are the only one who can maintain our prestigious line.” When James looks away and refuses to meet her eyes, Broke lets out a sigh. “Just one male heir, dear. Take a wife and produce a strong male heir... I could care less who would actually share your bed at night.”

Kendall’s eyes snap to Logan whose whole face has turned red at the implication. James is straightening his posture, staring at Logan who’s now holding his hand equally tight.

“You  _will_  have to keep up appearances,” Brooke warns them before they get ahead of themselves. “Even though everybody knows it’s a marriage of necessity, the less people gossip about it, the better. Do you understand?”

James nods, fingers lacing through Logan’s in clear view of his mother’s eyes but the Lady chooses to make no comment other than a second’s pause of observation.

“Come along, then.” And Brooke exits, heading back to the grand ball room.


	4. Spies

It’s nearly daybreak when the familiar whirr of motorcycle engines chase off the dregs of lethargy from Logan. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Logan is faced with the too-bright monitors showing live footage from the garage where the leather-clad riders are parking their vehicles beside the dark-tinted van. A backpack is secured on the taller one, Logan jams on a headset and the speakers crackle.

“Welcome back.” Logan’s voice gives away the trepidation that’s been bubbling up inside him every time they wrap up a particularly dangerous mission. He always feels like something could still go wrong at the eleventh hour – trackers zoning in on their hideout, bombs about to be triggered, bugs implanted. They’ve been doing this for five years now but he has yet to let go of his initial fears.

“Did you fall asleep in front of the monitors again?” A chuckle displaces the static. The taller rider takes off his backpack and hands it to his partner, looking up at the direction of the CCTV and flipping up his helmet’s visor.

Even in the grainy quality of the video stream, Logan can see the man’s eyes crinkled in amusement.

“Well someone has to make sure you guys get back safe,” Logan says defensively, frowning at the screen as though it could somehow get through.

“Thanks for caring.” James quips but Logan can tell it’s not so much as sarcasm as genuine affection.

“Geez, you two, get a room,” a snickering tone goes through the speakers. Carlos pulls off his helmet, tongue poking out of the corner of his lips in jest. He makes a beeline to the elevators, passing through a full body scan that would ensure that no foreign object would be brought into the headquarters.

James follows after him, helmet off, tossing his head to one side to flick his longish bangs out of his eyes. Once the laser scans finish, he joins Carlos and they ride the elevator to the second level.

Logan takes off the headset, swiveling his chair and rolling over to the opposite desk set against a glass divider that currently had marker scribbles detailing their latest ruse. He tidies up the scattered paperwork, sliding them into a folder that Kelly would sort through in the morning... er, later. The  _whoosh_  of the elevator doors gets him rotating his seat once more, this time to face James and Carlos. He stands up, jumping down the three steps of the raised podium to meet them.

“Hey, catch!” Carlos playfully tosses the backpack over. He has taken off his windbreaker for the more comfortable cardigan he keeps in the changing rooms.

The impact of the medium-weight bag knocks some air out of Logan. He clutches it to his chest, grousing, “Can you not?”

Carlos only beamed. “Is Kendall back yet?” His bright beetle-black eyes scan the expansive room bathed in blinding fluorescent light.

“Still working on negotiations. Said he expects to be back by noon, though,” Logan answers, walking over to the vault hidden behind fingerprint and retina scans. As he scribbles a proper label and stores the recovered documents in a filing cabinet built of the strongest metals, he hears James’ clear laughter carried over by the chilly air conditioning. Logan smiles.

As expected, he exits their storage vault to find Carlos heating up left-over corn dogs in the mini kitchen at the corner. James looks up at his return, inclining his head, asking Logan to join him at the circular glass table.

He doesn’t miss the way James’ eyes follow him, true intentions hidden expertly behind them but Logan is reassured that he’s made the right decision of sitting directly beside the brunet when James’ knee presses against his the second he takes his seat. “Shouldn’t you guys be sleeping?” he asks the room, holding back a blush at James’ proximity. “Coming from a heist and all...”

“Logan, Logan, Logan...” James tuts, pouring milk into a glass and handing it to him. “We’ve been doing this espionage stint for half a decade now,” his words are patronizing, but the expression on him softens at the concern so openly shown.

“And through all that,” Carlos continues, taking his eyes away from the solar glow of the microwave. “We learned that it’s best that we let the adrenaline rush die down before going to sleep. Keeps the scary dreams to a minimum.” He says it all matter-of-factly, cheeky grin displaced not a centimeter.

Logan knows the job is nowhere near easy but having his friends’ troubles laid out so plainly before him makes him wish he can do more than being the brains of the operation. His fingers slide around the cool body of the drinking glass. “Then let me take care of breakfast at the very least.” Logan vacates his seat, clapping Carlos on the back to get him to sit down.

“It’s technically not breakfast,” James points out, wiping the milk caught on his upper lip with the back of his hand. He sets down the carton he’d just drank out of, mirth dancing at the edges of his lips at Logan’s reaction. “It’s an early morning snack.”

“Ew, you put your germs on the milk!” Carlos whines as he sits down across from James.

“You don’t even like milk!” James counters, reaching back to open the fridge behind him. “What’ll you have?”

“Find me some mango juice.”

Watching the exchange over the rim of his glass, Logan smiles to himself, wishing for a second that Kendall was there – it’ll feel just like the old times, before they accidentally signed up for spy camp and got into this business. The microwave timer counts down to zero with a cheerful  _ping_  and Logan pulls out a plate from the lower cabinets to serve the corn dogs.

They sit around and eat, talking easy as the sun rises and the neon nightlights die down. Logan cradles his face on his palm, letting Carlos’ exuberant telling of the break-in and retrieval wash away his worries. The confidence laced in every word served to break down the doubts he’d been harboring; they were so sure of their skills and now he feels a little bad for letting his unfounded fears get the better of him. As soon as the plate is cleared of food, Carlos yawns and goes off to bed.

James loads the dishwasher while Logan checks the computers for any update in the half-hour that he was away. There’s already a news bite of the stolen documents but it contains nothing to tie the larceny to them. Still, he makes a note of it to keep tabs of the situation in the future. As he’s closing down his programs, he hears James come up behind him.

“You know, for a super secret spy organization we have the most unprofessional-looking desktop background,” James comments, eyeing the Christmas photo where all four of them were in their pajamas, holding up mugs overflowing with marshmallows.

“Yes, well, it’s a quick stress-fix,” Logan laughs thinly, memories warming him up more than sunlight. Suddenly, there are arms around his shoulders and his best friend’s face leaning in not more than two inches away from his cheek. His temperature flares as his pulse is startled into a dance. James eyes him sideways, charming, inviting, and Logan’s mind is getting swayed too easily...

“You haven’t been getting much sleep lately.” The observation is casual but the fact that it’s James who makes it automatically adds weight to the statement.

“Only when we’re on a job,” Logan shrugs, logging out. “I get plenty of sleep in between.”

James hums, not yet relinquishing his hold and Logan’s starting to think he could get used to this feeling. “I don’t think you understand how important you are to our team...” James’ voice is quiet, nearly indistinguishable from the whir of the machines surrounding them.

“Oh I think I do.” Logan pulls out a smirk. “Remember that time I cut off electricity from a whole complex just to get you guys time to escape?”

“I wasn’t talking about _that_ ,” James laughs. “But that was kind of awesome. I’m talking more like... well...” He leans his temple against Logan’s, the darkened screen of the desktop in front of them framing the rather intimate position; Logan couldn’t help but take in a sharp inhale. “Remember that time when I bet on you being the one most likely to leave?”

Logan gives a noncommittal nod, unable to force out a syllable with his throat seemingly closed up at the unexpected turn of conversation. There was also the fact that he can’t take his eyes off of their reflection.

“I’d just like to tell you that that’s no longer the case,” James says happily. He meets Logan’s eyes through the monitor, arms imperceptibly holding Logan closer.

“I know,” Logan replies, tone hushed as he holds James’ gaze. As it is, he sees the split second where James brings down all his defenses. Those hazel eyes lock onto him, brimming with a tidal wave of emotion that Logan isn’t prepared for.

“Do you believe it, though?” James asks and Logan doesn’t think he can handle this anymore.

 _Hell yeah I do!_  His brain is screaming but the heart pounding in his throat stops it all from pouring out, giving some space for reason and proper consideration. He knew this was a long time coming and he’s still not ready. All the probabilities are short-circuiting his mind, making it impossible to –

Lips press against his hair. James’ lips. James’ lips on his hair. James’ arms around his shoulders. James kissing him. James James James

“ _James_ ,” he moans through the slightest movement of lips.

“I know you’re overloading,” James chuckles and Logan can  _feel_  the stretch of that smile against his skin. “I can almost see your eyes do that Matrix thing. Just relax, okay?”

Logan just nods again.

“Don’t think,” James instructs, arms unwinding themselves and slinking away until he has both hands on Logan’s shoulders, thumbs resting against his nape. “Come on.” He helps Logan to his feet, positioning them until they’re in front of each other. “Let’s get some sleep.”

“W-What?” Logan sputters.

James steps back, giving the other man some space. “You need rest. We both do.”

James has a point and Logan can only concede despite having the small disappointed weight now wedged somewhere in his gut.

As though reading his thoughts, James adds. “Hey, we’ve waited three years to get this all out; a few more hours couldn’t hurt...”

“Four,” Logan corrects, the corner of his lips curling up.

“What?”

“Four years.” The blush creeping up his neck only serves to enunciate his shy smile.

A look of surprise passes over James’ face for a second before his own blush overtakes it. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Clearing his throat, James nods towards the elevator. “So. Sleep?”

* * *

James’ room comes up first and there’s tangible tension in the air between them.

“I should probably walk you to your room,” James shares, hands in his jacket.

“Don’t sweat it,” Logan brushes him off lightly. “I’ll see you later.”

Nodding, James steps back. “Sleep well.”

“I will.” Logan purses his lips, then he closes the space between them, lips pressing softly on James’ cheek. He pulls back, feeling a warm glow all over his body. “And good work today.”

James blinks at him.

“I’ve always wanted to do that,” Logan admits. He idles for another half-second before deciding that he wouldn’t be able to control himself much longer if James’ continues to look at him like that. So he backs off. “Bye.”

Watching Logan retreat to his own room at the other end of the hall, James thinks that he could really get used to this.


	5. School

The thing he missed most in this whole moving business was the group of friends he left behind. Sure, they were a bunch of geeks usually holed up in the library but they had the same interests  _and_ they helped him memorize the first 20 numbers of pi. Not to sound conceited or anything but it was a good feeling hanging out with people who were on his level of intelligence. With them he felt secure, even if it was only a little bit, against the bullies.

Speaking of which –

“Get out of the way, nerd!”

A rough shove threw him into a collision course against a row of lockers, drawing more laughter than concern from the witnesses. He righted his askew glasses to see the retreating backs of three students who soon blended in with the rest of the crowd.

He sighed, straightened up, and tried not to show how much his shoulder was hurting. He continued with a casual pace, heading to his classroom without looking directly at anyone. From that moment on, he learned to keep to the sidelines to be safe.

* * *

Despite his most fervent wishes, he wasn’t able to rid himself of those three kids who pushed him into the lockers on his first day. They don’t seem to recognize him but he has one of them in his class; the chubby one with long lashes. There haven’t been any untoward incidences, though, so he assumed that it’s all forgotten.

He catches up with school work without a sweat. Within the first month, he had established himself as one of the nerds again. Joining the math club was a no-brainer and the school librarian was a nice lady who didn’t mind him borrowing five books overnight instead of the allowed three.

If he was honest with himself, though, this new normal he was trying to establish was nothing but a farce. At his and his mom’s new home, the divorce hung like a storm cloud waiting to unleash a tempest. Getting things as close to what it once was became his way of coping and it’s something he’s determined to do right.

* * *

It’s six months later and he’s late to lunch because he forgot to return an overdue library book in the morning. He’s hurrying over to the corner table where the math geeks sit when someone just appears from his right and the two of them crash.

There’s a loud smack as they hit the floor and he could feel everyone’s eyes on him. Rubbing at his elbow, he sat up and found two more people standing over him. They have the cruelest glares directed at him as they help up their friend. Internally, he groans because  _of all the people_ it has to be  _them_.

“You okay, Carlos?” the blond one asked, thick brows bunched together in concern.

“’M fine,” the one he’d knocked over replies, revealing a missing tooth as he spoke.

He hoped he hadn’t caused that.

Then the blond one turned to him, arms crossed and menacing. “No one hurts my friends, geek.”

“It was an accident.” He staggered up, holding his hands in a peace-making gesture.

“Accident schmaccident,” Carlos huffed. “You should’ve looked where you were going.”

“Look, I’m sorry, okay? I don’t want any trouble.” He took a step back, eyes looking over the guys’ shoulders to see his friends staring worriedly but unwilling to come nearer.

“If you don’t  _want_ trouble, then don’t start causing any,” blondie sneers, green eyes glinting with childish malice. He looked over at his friends and they smirked back in reply.

Before he could figure out how to escape, Carlos and the chubby one flanked him, left and right. In one swift motion they pulled down his khakis and the sticky summer air blew over his exposed legs. Quicker than the blush creeping up his face, he turned around to run, forgetting about the pants locking his ankles together. He fell with a painful thud and that’s when he heard the derisive laughter coming in from all sides, pushing him down even further that he wished the ground would just swallow him up.

He hated it. Hated how everything just went so terribly wrong in a split second. His whole front was aching, he felt hollow and his backpack felt like a paperweight crushing him. Shoulders shaking, he struggled upright. He pulled up his pants, head ducked low, then he made a run for it. The last thing he heard was someone saying, “Oh my god, we made him cry.”

* * *

“Are you there?”

Automatically, his hands cupped over his mouth to silence the lingering hiccups. It’s one voice he really doesn’t want to hear right now.

There’s a sigh, then the sound of footsteps came closer. Instinctively, he pulled up his feet until he’s in something of a fetal position on top of the toilet lid. One by one, he heard the cubicle doors pushed open until the smack of a palm hits his door and it stayed locked.

“I know you’re in there,” the voice echoed in the otherwise empty restroom. It didn’t sound like a threat but he can’t exactly trust the guy so he stayed silent.

“You’re not in class,” the other kid continues.

 _Oh really, Captain Obvious?_  came his scathing internal monologue. From the space at the bottom of the door, he watched the boy’s shadow remain put.

“Miss Turner asked me to look for you.” The shadow lolled forward and back, the squeak of the sneakers telling him the boy was rocking on his heels. "You're missing out on fractions."

When ten seconds passed without him replying, the kid tapped the door again. His voice sounded nervous when he spoke. “Okay, I lied. Miss Turner doesn’t know I’m looking for you. I’ve been hogging the bathroom pass for the last fifteen minutes, which I’m sure is against the rules.”

His breath stopped as did the workings of his mind. He didn’t understand. “Why?” He heard his own voice ask, annoyed tone laced with distrust and a bit of curiosity.

“At the cafeteria... I thought I heard you crying and I – I felt bad,” was the response he got through the door still in between them.

“Just go away, James,” he spat out the name, huddling himself into a tighter ball.

“The guys are sorry, too,” James insisted. “It’s just been kind of a bad morning for Kendall and Carlos is, uh, he always acts before thinking so...” He nibbled on his bottom lip, eyes cast down at the blue tiles on the floor. Silences always made him uncomfortable. “At least tell me you’re okay?”

A second passed, the cubicle door creaked open. Behind the door is a short boy, black-framed glasses perched on his nose, wiping off snot with the too-long sleeves of his t-shirt.

“I’m sorry,” James said earnestly, stepping back to give the guy some space. In his right hand, the ribbon of the laminated hall pass was wrapped around his palm.

“I just...” He heaved a great sigh, looking forlornly at his classmate. “You could’ve stopped them.”

James remained silent, guilt shining in his hazel eyes.

“I figured you guys are, like, best friends or something but” he pushed his glasses up, leveling the guy with a look that showed him he’s not all that angry. “You’re allowed to disagree with them. If you don’t think they’re doing the right thing, then speak up.”

“I’ll – I’ll remember that,” James nodded. He eyed the scuffed up state of the shorter kid, a grimace pulling down his lips at the sight of wet splotches – the sure mark of many tears shed. It was difficult to tell if his sympathy was swayed due to the ruined clothes or the red-rimmed eyes enlarged by the prescription glasses but James found his mouth moving again. “But you know, friends are supposed to stick together...” He received a raised eyebrow and he doesn’t know where the nervousness came from but he suddenly knew where he was going with this. “I’m just saying that, uh, your friends should’ve come up to help you.”

Unexpectedly, he coughed up a dry laugh. “Like a bunch of nerds could’ve stopped you guys.”

“Then... Maybe you need new friends?” James’ hand got all clammy and he hoped he said the words right.

“...Excuse me?”

Clearing his throat, James put his free hand forward. “Hi, I’m James Diamond and I’d like to be your friend.” He finished with his best smile.

The hand before him trembled. He looked between James’ face and hand, trying to decide if it was a trick. James sounded sincere enough, his brain supplied, and he did say he was sorry. Huffing, and hoping that he wouldn’t regret it, he put his hand in James and gave a firm shake. “Nice to meet you, James. I’m Hortense Mitchell and I hope we get along better from now on.”

James squeezed Hortense’s hand, smile gleaming a tad brighter. “I’ve never been sure how to pronounce your name,” he confessed. “Don’t you have, like, a nickname or something?”

Hortense shook his head, letting go of James’ hand. “Never needed one. All the nerds thought it sounded cool.”

“What do  _nerds_  know about being cool?” James snickered but the he noticed the pointed look sent his way and immediately stopped. “Sorry.”

Hortense maintained the unimpressed look for one more second, watching James’ expression grow anxious until he couldn’t take it anymore and burst out chuckling.

“What? What’s so funny?” James asked, clearly distressed and he started to pout when his new friend pointed at him. “Me?”

“The look on your face,” Hortense managed to get out in between giggles.

“Not funny, Hortense.” James shoved at his shoulder without any real force, still testing out this new thing called friendship they shook upon just seconds ago.

“Let’s just get back to class...”


	6. Mythical Creature

Club scenes weren't really his thing so for possibly the millionth time that night, Logan Mitchell asked himself exactly  _what_  was he doing in here? He set down his drink, feeling a bit light-headed but one look at the empty seat across him made him wish he'd ordered something stronger.

He and Camille broke up again. It's the third time this month and to be honest Logan's getting tired of it. They fought over the stupidest things – a movie, karaoke, her outrageous acting gigs, his staunch love for anything scientific, plans to settle down. That last bit, Logan mused, was probably ill-advised considering they haven't even tried living in together. They've been dating on-and-off for the past two years and every time Logan thought they've passed one roadblock a rockier terrain comes up. Looking back now, he didn't know how they've managed to drag this carcass of a relationship on for so long. He was well aware of his commitment issues; one of the first things he liked about Camille was that she was all for a no-strings-attached type of relationship. Logan would call her up, or she would insinuate something along the lines of a private night, and the next morning they would carry on with their just-friends status.

Lately, though, Logan's mind had taken a turn even he hadn't anticipated. It might've been the result of just one too many Miracle of Life documentaries but one morning (last Tuesday to be exact), Logan figured he wanted to start a family. It's a huge leap from his comfort zone and he's only 28 to boot but the idea of having a kid of his own – and raising him (or her) to be an upstanding citizen – would be a far greater achievement than any award or medal. The problem was Camille.

Camille outright refused his proposition. She has a career, didn't he understand that? She can't afford to be tied down when her quest for stardom has barely taken off. That was when Logan made the mistake of saying that acting wasn't even a proper profession.

"And you'd know all about proper, wouldn't you?" Camille sneered at him, the venom in her narrowed eyes told of all the deviances they'd shared behind closed bedroom doors.

"Look." Logan stared her down, equally stern. "Think of this as another role for you to fill."

She scoffed at him. "Logan, of all people, this girl would be the one who knows the difference between a role and real life. Now I know this whole getting your own family may just be another achievement unlocked in  _whatever_ but trust me when I tell you that I am not ready for that. I love you, Logie, but it's a no from me."

"Well you're not getting any younger." The words got out before Logan could rethink them. The hard slap connected to his cheek before Logan could take them back.

Camille's face was livid, the dark curls of her head might as well have been snakes and she Medusa with the way Logan became frozen in place at the sight of her.

"Logan Mitchell that was absolutely uncalled for!" Camille was practically screaming, people from nearby tables were craning their heads to look. "I just –  _ugh_. I can't believe you! Go find a whore to bend to your every whim." She picked up her purse and left without sparing him another glance.

That was four hours ago. It's thirty minutes to midnight and Logan still hadn't moved from his seat. The restaurant was making its routine transformation into a night club – a dance floor was cleared at the center, the buffet table disassembled in favor of putting up the crystal curtains, light fixtures flashing reds and oranges flickered to an absent beat. The empty stage was occupied by a DJ who set up his booth and soon raving teens began to fill the establishment. A waiter came by to clear his table of the half-eaten dinner he'd allowed to go cold.

Minutes passed and Logan felt increasingly out of place as youthful patrons filled it from wall to wall. He had texted an apology to Camille hours ago without getting any reply; as was usually the case whenever they had a disagreement. Meanwhile, his thoughts veered in the direction of actually going out and meeting prospective life partners. It wasn't a skill he'd taken care to develop but if two people clicked, then they did, and Logan had gotten this far with that theorem – he's rather optimistic of his chances. His search for aforementioned partner, however, was unlikely to start in a too-loud nightclub when he's half-buzzed just hours after breaking it off forever with the one woman he'd had a "steady" relationship with. But since he was already there…

* * *

It's difficult to figure out how long the guy had been watching him but the second their eyes met across the bar Logan got something like an electric shock. Drinking alcohol always made him feel hot but getting locked in a staring match with the Adonis of a man five, maybe six, barstools over got his nerves sparking white hot fire. Without breaking eye contact, the other man finished his drink. In spite of the pumping music, Logan inexplicably heard the clink of those ice cubes as the man put his glass down and a smirk stretched his red lips.

In a fluid move, the man displaced the bangs covering his eyes, revealing them to be aglow in the club's semi-darkness.

If he was anywhere near sobriety, Logan would've found it odd but since he wasn't, he could only focus so hard until he got tunnel vision. He rotated his seat, back resting against the edge of the island top, anticipation thrumming in his ears.

"Hey, gorgeous."

Logan choked on air, covering up his mouth with a fist to stifle it. It was a blatant come on and wow, Logan was so not prepared for that. He wet his lips, not missing the sudden attention that particular body part garnered, and tried for a proper response. "H-Hi…"

"Call me James," the guy introduced himself, voice rich and smooth. James towered over him but somehow that didn't seem threatening unlike his previous experiences with these jock-types. The expensive-looking fabric of his polo was stretched over a muscular physique that instigated a spike of arousal mixed intimately with a jealousy that only fueled the former.

"Logan." He took a breath to clear his mind but instead got a good whiff of James' cologne and  _god_  it made his knees weak. Logan's head swirled, overwhelmed with the inhuman appeal of the man standing before him.

James smiled and it was too-knowing for Logan's liking when –

"Whoops – sorry, I should've – I – I…" A blonde girl with a pouty pair of lips was clutching at James' arm, her awkward posture indicating she had probably tripped over her high heels. Instead of quickly backing away, however, the girl continued to stare up at James. "Wow, you're hot." Her eyelids lowered seductively, lips curling into a grin.

In the split-second James took to look over the girl, Logan felt a monstrous growl roaring to be let out. He should be afraid at this intensity churning inside of him, it was all too sudden and too much but reason wasn't his top priority at the moment. Before he could react, James already made a move.

The brunet leaned in the girl's direction, one finger raised to tilt her chin up towards him. A breathy giggle that smelled of vodka and tonic filled the air between them and James smirked, looking into her dazed eyes. "You're a treasure," he murmured. "But I'm going home with someone else tonight." Deftly, he plucked her hands off of him and turned his attention back to Logan.

Logan, for his part, was torn between surrendering to the irrepressible reaction his body was having in relation to this James guy and asserting what self-control he could muster because he wasn't  _that_  desperate for sex… right?

"You know, I really hate getting interrupted," James chuckled, absently pushing back his hair. "So why don't we get to know each other better somewhere more… suitable?"

* * *

It's a pent house. Of course James would be living in a pent house.

"Please, have a seat." James made a grand gesture at the den's honey gold sofa. There's a fruit bowl at the center of the coffee table and right above it hung a chandelier, its crystals marbled with green pigments and carved in the shape of ivy leaves.

Logan muttered a 'thanks' before settling in, eyes wide at the extravagance of the place. James didn't look any older than him, it was mind-blowing to think how he could afford this place for himself.

"Cabernet sauvignon?"

The confused look on Logan's face brought out a laugh from James. He stood beside the wine rack in front of the flat screen mounted on the wall, picking up a black bottle labeled with swirling gold letters. "It's quite strong."

It also looked hella expensive. Logan nodded, for fear that declining would offend his gracious host.

James poured a healthy amount of wine into two bulbous glasses, the rich aroma filling the room and he smiled in satisfaction. He joined Logan on the couch and they drank.

Almost immediately, Logan felt the buzz in his bones return. He lowered his glass to the coffee table, meeting an appreciative look from James when he licked a stray drop from the corner of his lips. "It's, uh, wow… Haven't had wine that good before…"

"It's a personal favorite," James agreed, glass rim just touching his lips. He closed his eyes and breathed in, the life of the whole place seemingly revolving around him and his wine. The ambient lights were dispersed and modulated by the tendril-like grates running along the wall just under the ceiling. The wallpaper was a muted green with acanthus patterns.

Staring at James being at peace in his element, Logan felt his throat dry up and quickly finished the rest of his drink in one gulp.

"I don't mean to be intrusive, Logan." James' hand brushed against his when the man put down his own empty glass. Those mesmerizing eyes were on him again and he found them to be a brilliant shade of hazel flecked with gold. "But I witnessed the disagreement you had with your woman earlier."

Logan blinked, memories of hours ago seemed foggy to him now.

"And the subject of your miscommunication got me very much interested…" The words were delivered slowly, almost like a chant, as James moved into Logan's personal space.

"What about it?" Logan just barely kept himself from slurring. The alcohol in his system added to James' sudden proximity did wonders to his mellowed out mind.

"I can give it to you," James whispered, lips brushing over Logan's cheek, teeth catching on his earlobe.

"Give what?" A giggle escaped his lips, feeling James' hot breath dance over the shell of his ear.

Kissing and teasing the flesh with his tongue, James continued. "The thing you're longing for. A love, a child, a –"

"Whoa, whoa. Hang on." Logan clumsily disentangled himself from James. Laughter squeezed its way between his words as he stared at the other man. "Child?" He gave an ungraceful snort. "Who said anything about children?"

"You." James said simply. He placed a finger over Logan's heart. "You said so right here."

A sputtering chuckle left him and Logan shrugged. "Well, yeah, but you're… you can't give that, I mean… you're a hunk and all…" He'd begun blabbering and James only grew more and more amused. Logan hit pause, squinting. "You're not gonna kidnap a kid, are you?"

"No. No kidnapping," James assured him, laughter in his eyes and kindness in his smile. He leaned in close once more, palm spreading out on Logan's chest and working its way to the skinny tie lying limp in the middle. "I'm going to give it to you exactly how you want it."

Logan groaned, getting a contact high from too much exposure to the living, breathing personification of his most desperate wet dreams pressing up on him. He squeezed his eyes shut, tugged forward by his tie and feeling James' mouth so near to his own. "Oh god, just let me fuck you, please," Logan whined, strung-up from all the teasing and delineating conversation. "Or fuck me. James, come on, I'm not picky." He opened one eye, scared to find out if James would back away now.  _Please don't, please don't, please don't, please_

James kissed him. A quick peck on the lips that felt like a burst of ripened grapes and Logan was helplessly parched. "Bedroom's this way." James held on to the pinstriped tie, using it to pull Logan along.

* * *

Logan woke with one hell of a hangover.

The place was unfamiliar, purple sheets softer than anything he'd ever touched, pillows embroidered with golden vines scattered all around him. He pushed himself into a sitting position, looking around the room. The curtains were drawn tight in front of the windows but a wall clock showed it was 9:40 in the morning, his clothes were folded neatly at the foot of the bed, and there were small white feathers on the carpeted floor.

A white card folded up on the bedside drawer eventually caught his attention. It has his name written in looping calligraphy upfront. Flipping it open, he read the note and nearly had a heart attack.

The signature was of a name he couldn't connect to any face, though it sounded like something he'd learned in biology.

It was a bluff, his mind raced ahead of the impending panic. It's probably that – that James guy, that's right. James was just messing with him.

Nevertheless, Logan dressed quickly and went out – stopping in his tracks when he heard Dora on the TV. He's almost afraid to turn around and look but he couldn't help it. What if there really was –

 _Oh shit_.

There's a kid. She's bundled up in a green blanket and her whole body was turned towards the cartoons. Logan's first instinct was to run, run away fast and hide forever because this child – this – it can't be real.

He'd barely taken a step when the squeak of his shoes against the floor got the girl's attention swiveling towards him.

Her eyes are big and hazel underneath a messy fringe of black hair. She beamed at him and Logan started to dread her words.

"Good morning, Daddy!"

Logan winced, lost at where he was supposed to go with this. "Uhm, hey… sweetie…" He glanced around awkwardly, trying on a smile. "What's your name?"

She only smiled wider at him. "Oh, Pothos said you get to choose that since he already did so much work in making me pretty!"

_Pothos._

It was the same name that signed the card. Logan wasn't sure who or what exactly this  _Pothos_  was but that's kind of the least of his problems right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pothos is one of the Erotes, Greek Gods associated with sex and love; the most famous of which is Eros. Pothos' designation is _"Desire, Longing," especially for one who is absent_. He has some sort of connection to Dionysius, god of wine, so that's where all the alcohol/madness/richness theme in this chapter comes from.
> 
> Pothos is also the common name for house plants.


	7. Fairytale

Everyone knew about the witch in the woods. From infancy into adulthood, the whole town knew well to keep clear of the forest especially during the full moon. It was a period of simple living and even simpler laws. James Diamond, however, wasn’t satisfied with that.

James knew he was destined for greatness and greatness was not supposed to be confined in a shabby hamlet in the middle of nowhere. James has a passion for singing, an inborn talent if you will, and not one single person from their town has ever thought otherwise. That was the thing, though, in this dingy little town: James had no competition, he had no measure of how great he really was. So on his seventeenth year, James finally decided to go out into the world.

Logan was shocked when James put forth the proposition to him. Him? Local librarian and wannabe healer join James in his venture? Logan shook his head, as much as their friendship meant to him, a selfish part of Logan wanted James to stay put in their village. It was a dangerous world out there and very few of those who wandered out ever came back. Of course, that could mean that those people found a better life elsewhere but Logan wasn’t willing to risk it. James was special and Logan...  Logan couldn’t imagine living without him.

They packed their bags, filling the burlap sacks with clothes, food, and scrolls that Logan thought would be relevant. James was provided a horse by his family, a steed with a robust body and a mellow brown coat, its saddle to be used to carry their baggage. Prior to their departure, teary goodbyes were shed together with the most sincere hopes that they encounter no trouble in passing the dreaded woods. They mapped out their route and left early to cover more ground, James insisting that Logan ride with him and the latter’s resolve was never really strong around the former.

They entered the forest round noon time when the luxuriant growth seemed magical, abundant with creatures and flora that made their travel more relaxing than expected. Lunch was eaten beside a clear stream, which they later used to refill their water pouches.

All the stories relating to the forest were filled with such horror and mystery that they found it fascinating to experience the total opposite. James decided to travel on foot, leading the horse by its bridle, because it would be such a pity to traverse these wondrous lands they have been so denied in a hasty gallop. Even Logan’s uncertainty eventually faded and the rest of the afternoon was passed in a casual stroll.

Filed with inspiration, James sang aloud, tune sweeter than anything Logan has ever heard before. With the bits of grass and petals sticking to his hair and clothes from their short nap earlier, James looked akin to the immortal fey Logan has read about in childhood. But the solid warmth of the hand clasping his own – a shock in itself to register since he did not recall initiating such a thing – only served to remind him that this man was his dearest friend. This man had chosen to share this journey with him, and only him. Smiling bright, Logan carefully reached over and brushed away a small white flower that threatened to fall into James’ eyes.

Before they knew it, the sun had dipped over the horizon, taking with it the forest’s luster. As the stars came out of their hiding, James started out a new song – calmer but no less emotional. Logan held James’ hand tighter, suddenly wary at the sound of rustling leaves. Above them, an owl hooted before taking off from its perch and circling over their heads. Rendered immobile with fear, it was not until the bird landed on the ground and morphed into a hag that Logan realized they’d strayed too far from their path.

He tried to run, grab James and get away from the witch but his whole body remained frozen. The scariest part of it, though, was discovering that his hand held nothing but empty air. There was no James beside him, only an exotic bird looking lost and confused. Oddly enough, its plumage was colored exactly like the missing man’s clothes.

A cackle from the witch chilled his bones and she took the bird, put it inside a cage. “I have not heard a voice so pure in a long time,” she crooned. “You will make a fine addition to my collection.” Her eyes found Logan and a sinister smile shone beneath the shadows of her face. “ _You_ , I have no use for.”

Unable to move or speak, Logan could only watch the hag retreat into the forest with his James. He strained to see where they were headed and managed to glimpse the pointed roof of a tower above the line of trees. In the long hours of solitary that followed, the village’s old lore came back to Logan: of the witch who turned songstresses into birds for her own keeping, of the impenetrable castle at the heart of the forest, of the curse that seized motion from whoever came near its boundaries.

At the touch of the waning moon’s beam, Logan found control over his body returned but he could hardly rejoice at his freedom. James was still gone and Logan was no fool to risk barging into an old hag’s castle. Lamenting their fate, Logan knew he could not return to their home, not after what he had unwittingly let happen. Heart aching, he gave one last look at the tower and proceeded to walk away in defeat.

* * *

Years have passed but Logan hardly dared forget.

He had come upon a village at the outer edge of the forest and had lived there as a healer’s assistant. James’ horse had run off by the time he’d regained control of himself so his research was started from scratch. This new village had very limited resources but Logan absolutely refused to let that stop him. He would question visiting merchants, trade his coins for foreign scrolls, anything he could do to find a possible reversing spell.

Sometimes, Logan would wander the forest, finding the castle walls peeking between large trunks and shrubbery. He’d walk around the perimeter, taking care not to walk too close or linger when the sun would set. His dreamspace wasn’t safe either, filled with memories of that perfect afternoon and the nightmarish separation dealt upon them. He would see James smiling, apparently talking to him but no words were decipherable, drowned out by the trilling song of a nightingale.

Then one night his dreams changed. Logan found himself in an unfamiliar meadow, drawn towards a peculiar flower: petals red as blood, nestled at its center was a dew drop bright as a pearl. He picked up the flower and headed for the witch’s castle. There, everything he touched was freed from enchantment, including the bird that transformed back to his beloved James.

Come morning, Logan started looking for the flower everywhere that he could. On the ninth day, he found it, vibrant and mystic much like in his dream. With strengthened purpose, Logan travelled back to the forest, going straight to the witch’s front door. No spell could touch him, his movements were free, and he strode in more determined than ever to reclaim what he’d lost. The sound of a thousand birds chirping led him across the courtyard and into the high tower.

When the witch saw him, she snarled and spat out a curse to no effect. The flower protected him, and upon seeing it, the witch’s eyes grew white. She attempted to run, grabbing a bronze cage from its stand but Logan recognized the bird’s distinct plumage.

With a great leap, Logan blocked the hag’s escape. He touched the flower to her ashen hand and she dropped the cage before phasing out of existence right before his eyes. Heartbeats thundering in his ears, Logan touched the flower to the bronze cage and prayed.

Lean, muscled arms surrounded Logan, pulling him close to James in his recovered form. The rest of the birds warbled urgently at seeing the magical transformation but Logan decided they could wait. He held James just ever closer, savoring the fulfillment of his most fervent wish.


	8. Futuristic

“Holy space hockey, she’s beautiful!”

“I know, right?” Logan beams with pride. He turns his head towards the object of his friends’ awed compliments: the beautiful woman beside him whose demure expression remains unchanged.

“One visit to Japan and you bring home a hot babe,” Kendall eyes her appreciatively. “ _Nice_.”

They’re hanging out as per their scheduled monthly get-together and this time it’s Logan’s turn to host it. Kendall sits down on the sofa, having just ended a call from his coach about the team’s practice schedule. The interplanetary semifinals between Earth and Mars is coming up and they seriously need to win back the title.

Carlos, for once, is not wearing his favorite helmet. He’s dying to blabber all about this newfound and probably illegal stuff he and his men had confiscated at customs the other day but then his thoughts short-circuited when a certain pretty woman opened the door to Logan’s bachelor pad.

“What’s her name?” Carlos asks, a dopey smile on his face.

Logan puffs out his chest, staring up at the woman perched neatly at the arm of his sofa. Clearing his throat, Logan motions for her to speak. “PC-0126 please introduce yourself.”

A serene smile surfaces and she inclines her head towards Logan’s friends, hands primly folded on her lap. “Greetings.” A digital voice sounds from the movement of her pink-shaded lips. “I am PersoCom Model 0126. You may address me as Jamie. It is an honor to meet Master’s friends.” Jamie gives a little bow, her short brown hair falling gracefully back into place when she’s done.

The smile on Logan’s face dies when he sees Kendall scrutinizing his PersoCom. “What?”

Kendall eyes the android critically. She stands at his height, brown hair cut short and shaggy. Her clothes are violet with white trimmings, designed like a 19th century nurse’s uniform but modernized with its use of rubberized fabric. When she ran them through her recognition software earlier, Kendall found her eyes to be brownish with a ring of green under the digital codes flashing through them.

“Just... wow.” Kendall finally gives his assessment with a shrug. “How unsubtle can you be?”

“Yeah,” Carlos nods enthusiastically in agreement. When Logan pins them with an affronted look, he leans into Kendall whispering. “Unsubtle is good, right?”

“Carlos, seriously, get a real good look at this... _Jamie_.” Kendall waits for five seconds. “Does she not remind you of anyone? Someone _real_ important?” he emphasizes.

Carlos leans forward, arms supported on his knees. “Well now that you mention it...” his lips press together in a pout, angling his head left and right. “She does kind of look like Jam–”

“Okay, who wants snacks?” Logan interrupts in a too-loud and obviously-faked cheerful voice. “Jamie, please prepare a snack for me and my friends.”

Jamie casts a sunny smile at him. “Of course, Master.” She stands up and heads to the right portal.

Once the PersoCom is out of sight, Kendall levels a cynical look at Logan. “Exactly what are you trying to prove here, Logan?”

“Me?” Logan swats the air in front of him as though that would push the comments away. “I’m not doing anything wrong. PersoComs are the future, everyone in Japan has them. I even met this guy who–”

“She’s a robot,” Kendall points out.

“Who is very efficient at housekeeping,” Logan counters, brows beginning to furrow because he can feel the direction this conversation is heading and he does not like it one bit. “She even answers my voicemail _and_ she can organize my appointments way better than my secretary ever did.”

“You’re completely missing the point!” Kendall throws up his hands. “Even Carlos knows who she’s really substituting!”

“She’s not a substitute for anybody!” Logan crosses his hands defensively. “As a very busy professional, I think I more than deserve a highly competent partner–”

“In housekeeping and scheduling appointments?”

“–who listens to everything I say–”

“She’s programmed to practically be your slave!”

“–and does what’s expected without any stupid questions–”

“You’re digging yourself into a hole, buddy. Listen to me–”

“No, _Jamie_ listens to me.”

“Logan, you can’t let your life revolve around an android.”

“And that’s why I have you guys!”

“No, this is why you need James.”

The retort dies in Logan’s throat, his mouth shutting itself as he puts every effort into stifling the string of unflattering words that were threatening to come out.

Carlos, who had wisely chosen to stay out of his best friends’ shouting match, claps his hands together to dispel the tension in the air. “Boy, did we miss each other!” He nods at Kendall and Logan, wearing a hopeful smile. “We should make this a weekly thing! Or – or, we spend our get-togethers outside. That newly opened theme park sounds super–”

Logan raises a hand to stop him. “Carlos. Thank you, but what I’d appreciate the most is us not talking about James. Ever.”

“I never really understood why you guys broke up in the first place,” Kendall presses, completely ignoring the request.

“I’m not talking about this,” Logan insists, looking up just in time to see Jamie return from the kitchen with a tray of pizza rolls and three cans of sparkling soda.

Their conversation stops as Jamie proceeds to set down their food on the center table and resumes her place standing beside Logan’s chair.

“Thanks, Jamie.” Logan rewards her with a smile. Said smile turns tight when he turns his attention back to Kendall and Carlos.

“Hey, we’re your friends, and this is what good friends do.” Kendall reaches for a soda and it opens up for him, popping out a straw. “You gotta take it like a man.”

“I am dealing with it maturely, thank you very much.” Logan shifts in his seat, glancing over at Jamie.

“Then what’re you looking at her for?” Carlos asks, mouth around a pizza roll.

“Well.” Logan looks uncomfortable, biting his tongue before answering. “I just think it’s rude to talk about... you know who around Jamie.”

Kendall stares. “Are you serious right now?” When Logan huffs at him, Kendall’s expression grows incredulous. “She’s not human, Logan. She won’t get offended at us talking about James.”

“Hey,” Logan interjects but Kendall ignores it.

“What does she even have to get offended at?” Kendall sips at his drink, stopping all of a sudden at Logan’s uncharacteristic silence. “Wait...”

There it is. A clear blush on Logan’s face and –

“You have got to be kidding me.”

Wringing his hands, Logan dives into a hasty and long-winded explanation. “Don’t judge me, alright? So I was in Japan right and I meet this really eccentric professor at the convention I went to and maybe he talked too much about PersoComs, convinced me to buy one and all that. Thing is, I wouldn’t have considered it at all if he didn’t give this awesome speech about A.I. and coding love – it was love science, man, _love science_!And they apparently have a whole research and development program there. Now recently, they’ve managed to build this chip that can transmit the right codes and–”

Carlos’ eyes bug out. “So she’s a sex doll?!”

“No!” Logan shouts, the color on his face flushing deeper. “I mean, I don’t know, okay! There’s a whole manual on it that I haven’t gotten to yet but – I’m not even going there! It’s a whole new level of wrong and all I want is just... just...” He slumps in his seat.

“Is there something wrong, Master?” Jamie asks, a pinch of concern evident in her flawless features.

“No, I’m alright...” Logan straightens up, meeting his friends’ worried gazes. “Wait. Scratch that. You know what? Fine, I’ll say it. I miss James _but_ let me say that I hate him even more.”

“You don’t hate him,” Kendall says confidently. “Otherwise you wouldn’t have gotten someone who looks _exactly_ like him, give or take a few curves.”

“Then let me rephrase,” Logan grits out. “I hate that I can’t hate him.”

“So why won’t you two just get back together?” Carlos’ utterly confused stare makes Logan sigh.

“Because.” Logan closes his eyes, screaming internally in frustration. “We haven’t been spending any time together. He’s too focused on his career rather literally taking off and I have my own thing down here but to go three whole days without speaking is just – it’s just not right, okay? Not when every sort of crazy rumor plagues the news. I know dating a pop superstar is nowhere near easy but dating your best friend and having it fall apart is... it’s life ruining, okay?”

“Hey.” Kendall’s voice has taken on its big brother tone. “We’re his best friends, too. You think it was easy for me and Carlos to watch your epic love story end in tragedy? I know I can’t imagine the pain you went through, but give me some credit here – it was harsh not being able to do a thing and stop you two from self-destructing like that.”

“When it was good, it was like heaven, you know,” Logan reminisces sadly. “But then the drifting apart happened and from there everything just – poof.”

“Didn’t you even try to get back together with James?” Carlos inquires, concerned.

“I, no, uh... Since we called it quits I buried myself with work,” Logan confesses, scratching the back of his neck. “Told my secretary to block all messages from James.” Finding a pair of skeptical stares on him, Logan shrugs. “It wasn’t like it was going to be any different since he rarely found time to call me anyway.”

“Okay, so the question now is, did you ever call him?” Kendall leans back, crossing one leg over the other.

“Since when were you a psychologist?”

“Just answer the question, Logan.”

Sighing, Logan replies, “Not technically. I really, really, really want to sometimes but I just... When I come home, first instinct is to speed dial him only to get the operator saying there’s no number saved. That’s when I remember and the misery strikes and – _fuck_ , how am I supposed to move on like this?”

“That’s because even if you guys aren’t in a relationship anymore, it doesn’t mean you have to stop being friends,” Carlos tells him. “Don’t get mad but I’ve talked to James and he spends hours and hours just wishing you’d talk to him again.”

“He what?” Logan freezes, unwilling to believe.

“He broke down in the middle of a concert, dude,” Carlos exclaims, looking offended that Logan wouldn’t know about it.

“No, I know that, I saw the news,” Logan amends. “That was two days ago, it was in the middle of – oh dear god.”

“Yeah. That song.” Carlos eyes him like he’s should’ve figured it out by himself long ago. “Your song.”

“Why did he even have that in his set list?” Logan demands.

“Because, duh.” Grabbing his second pizza roll, Carlos points it at Logan. “Since you’ve blocked him from contacting you directly, he figured he should just announce it to the world hoping against hope you’d hear it somehow.”

With wide eyes and a slack jaw, Logan stares at his carpet. “How could I have been so stupid?”

“That’s what we’ve been telling you for the past two weeks!” Kendall laughs, glad to finally have this conversation get somewhere important. He raises his soda can to Carlos, who raises his pizza roll in reply and they ‘toast.’

“Oh god.” Logan drags his hands down his face. “Oh god, oh god, oh god...”

“It’s not too late, Logan,” Kendall assures him. “Give him a call right now.”

“But... I don’t know what to say.”

“You’ll know what to say.” Carlos gives him a thumbs up. “Go for it.”

Taking a deep inhale, Logan steels his resolve. “Jamie.” Logan turns to his PersoCom. “Dial James Diamond.”


	9. Aliens

It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity that James simply cannot afford to turn down.

It’s one thing to have his single be the most requested song on Mars within the first week of the trans-planetary music station. It’s another to be one of the few artists to hold a meet and greet with the fans from Earth’s sister planet. But to actually hold a concert?

James knows that if there’s anything to cement his place among the stars, it’ll be that. So he signs the contract without a second thought, his manager grinning triumphantly behind him. The deal’s done and he’s all pumped up already even if the concert wouldn’t be for another six months. Still, James is excited for this and the first person he calls is his boyfriend.

* * *

It’s been a hundred years since the initial ‘families’ were sent to live on the planet, the confirmation of its hospitality to life forms eventually had more and more immigrants lining up to depart the old green and blue. More than for housing the adventurous ones, Earth governments found Mars to be a far better Alcatraz. Not to mention the rich mineral deposits which became a valuable trade object for Earthly goods. Pretty soon, development in both planets rose exponentially and peace reigned equally. But given the planets’ respective orbits, all interactions had to be limited to the duration of Mars and Earth’s opposition periods which came once every two Earth years.

At first, the prominent architecture and lifestyles of these ‘Martians’ closely reflected those that peaked in the mid-21st  _c_ entury but years of solitary development led them to construct their own tastes and canons. The later infrastructures on Mars became something of a call-back to the Bauhaus movement but with an eldritchian twist from the conventional usage of local raw materials.

The humans who’d chosen to immigrate likewise evolved. Living with lower surface gravity eventually led to adjustments in their anatomical and physiological states. This was most evident in the third-generation Martians who were considerably taller, with longer limbs and elongated features.

It became quite a shock to the Earthlings left behind, but men of the scientific persuasion became all the more fascinated with the prospect of exploring other possible habitations and gaining insight on these that would contribute to their studies.

Since then, the development of more efficient and streamlined transportation bought more time for everyone’s desired interaction. Earthlings and Martians now had six months between two annuals to share and it led to ever more scientific and social breakthroughs.

* * *

Logan is just as thrilled as James is about the news and it calls for an impromptu celebration. They pull Kendall and Carlos from their busy schedules and spend the night celebrating at the famous bar closest to the stars.

It’s the sweetest night they could remember. The sweat on their skin and the alcohol in their veins keeping them glued to each other until the stars faded in the morning light. James allows himself to sleep in, still unable to believe how his life had taken a turn for the stellar. In his arms, Logan shifts, pulling the covers closer to himself. Chuckling, James contents himself with pressing a dozy kiss to Logan’s nape, chest aligned with his lover’s back. They lie there until an emergency call from Logan’s secretary has them reluctantly pulling apart.

“You better still be naked and in bed when I get back,” Logan threatens him the best he could with a sleepy-eyes-and-rumpled-bed-hair combination.

James laughs. “Sorry, babe, I have a training sesh with the band.” He follows Logan out of their warm bed, letting the covers pool at his feet. “Gustavo hired these new back-up vocals and there’s apparently something wrong with their harmonizing.”

Logan huffs but the sparkle in his eyes betray him, especially with the way they keep wandering over the lower regions of James’ body.

Seeing teeth bite into those plush lips he’d claimed and let claim him, James leans over and kisses the tip of Logan’s nose. “Come on, Doctor Minnesota, you’ve got a spleen transplant to save.”

“That sounds so lame when you say it like that,” Logan chuckles, palms cupping James’ cheeks to orchestrate a proper kiss.

If James had known how much things were going to change in the next six months, he would’ve just kept them both in bed. Maybe forever.

* * *

He’s got three concerts booked in various Habitation Zones on Mars and James can’t wait to see more of the Red Planet, but at the same time...

“James!” Gustavo barks, sounding more annoyed than the last ten times he’d called the superstar’s attention.

“I know, I know.” James releases a sigh, tearing his eyes away from the distant speck of green and blue that was Earth.

“Your fans have broken into the space shuttle port to greet you,” Gustavo says with a dramatic gesture towards where the high-pitched screaming is muffled by closed doors. “The least you can do is act happy to see them!”

“But I  _am_  happy to see them,” James insists, crossing his arms indignantly. “I just...”

“Oh stop being dramatic!” His manager yells, motioning for their whole crew to start moving . “Grin and bear it! Take a few photos, shake some hands, sign autographs – god knows this show’s gonna be  _the_  talk of the planet.”

James knows Gustavo’s right. Kelly’s sympathetic clap on the shoulder helps him settle and he shakes away the sad thoughts, shooing them into the back of his mind to pick at even more at a later time. Wiggling his hands in front of him, James gathers his wit, managing to pull out his signature smile just before the cameras start flashing.

* * *

The interviews exhaust him but James has enough experience with Earthly papparazzi to handle the Martian crowd. Inwardly, he can’t help but be awed at the familiar but at the same time uncharacteristic human forms fawning over him.

 _So this must be what it feels like to be an intergalactic superstar_ , James’ inner muse whispers to him and as if on cue, a second voice corrects the first one.

_It’s not intergalactic since Earth and Mars are in the same galaxy, silly._

James almost laughs. Almost. But he knows who that voice belongs to and he’s counted one exact month since they’ve stopped talking and it just hurts.

“–ames? Are you there, James?”

He hears the studio audience laugh and James blinks back to reality. He’s on a sofa under blinding stage lights. The interviewer is giving him a wry grin and James perks up.

“What can I say, Henry?” James is really glad these folks kept speaking English. “I really live up to my album.” He gives a well-practiced wink at the camera. “Confused Astronaut, out in stores now. Get your copies and get a chance to win that VIP ticket to  _this_  confused astronaut’s concert tomorrow night.”

Everybody claps, enjoying his charisma and laughing at the wacky theme of his concert poster that’s projected on-screen.

* * *

He can’t do this. Why did James ever think that he can do this?

The crowd is still singing along to the chorus, the band is still playing, the lights are still flashing, but James... James stares at the shadowed arena, staring at the homemade posters sprinkled with glitter and adoration. All these faces staring up at him, all these lives he’d touched through his music, all of them on a disconnected planet from where they really belong...

Words are stuck in his throat. James goes wide-eyed, completely missing the cue for the second verse but the concert-goers are too pumped up with adrenaline to notice. They keep singing to him, singing the words he’d penned down, singing the love song –  _his_  love song  _to him_  – because they’ve convinced themselves they’re in love with him, because maybe they really are in love with him. And James can’t let them down. He can’t let them down like he did Lo–

Searing pain explodes like a supernova in his chest. His limbs stiffen, glassy eyes turned up to the two moons watching over them.

It’s only when the first choked sob echoes through the sound system does anybody notice that something has gone very wrong.

* * *

_Answer me. Answer me. Come on, pick up. Please, Logan, please just–!_

“Call error. Please try again later.”

_FUCK!_

James throws his phone to the floor, pulling off the bandanna around his head and burying the heels of his palms into his eyes.

_I miss you. I need you so bad, Logan._

Shoulders heaving, James squeezes his stinging eyes tight, hoping that it would hold off the barrage of tears.

It’s this stupid concert. He has given up everything for this stupid concert and it’s – it’s not worth anything! Nothing could ever be worth losing the love of his life over. James has always known that so how could he have let things go this far?

Anger rose like a tidal wave inside him, pulled in all directions by the dual satellites hovering around this red planet. James has never felt so helpless.

* * *

It’s a miracle that he finished the two other shows without incident, deeming his feat an overall success, headlining every media outlet in both worlds.

The smooth landing of their shuttle doesn’t even get a bat of an eyelash from James. His eyes are closed and his body is weary; he just wants to go home.

Bright flashes and obnoxious chatter greet his crew’s arrival but the bodyguards huddle close to maintain distance between the two parties. James is thankful for the shades keeping his distraught expression hidden. He doesn’t need a tabloid article to mess up things even more than they already are.

They’re almost at the limo where more velvet ropes are holding the presses at bay, when the doors open and James’ world stops.

For a second, James is sure that he’s finally lost it. Superstardom has gone to his head and cracked him up because this is just –

“Hey, James...” The way those lips form his name is the clearest thing James could remember.

Next thing he knows, he’s launching himself at the man, arms wrapping deadly possessive around the smaller frame.

There’s a choked sound of surprise followed by flustered half-words but James is done listening. He holds Logan close, finding peace of mind at the solid warmth of his body. James faintly registers the arms wrapped around him in response before his breathing gets quick and heavy.

“It’s okay, I got you,” Logan reassures him, lips pressing lightly over his cheek as they begin to move.

It’s an awkward dance with the two of them unwilling to budge their arms and the security personnel walling them in, but they eventually make it inside the limousine with Kelly and Gustavo sliding in just before the doors are closed.

James’ eyes are puffy when Logan finally removes his shades for him and remorse is the first thing he sees on the man he loves. “Logan...”

“Shh.” With nimble fingers, Logan wipes off the tears that were beginning to fall. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t,” James protests, grabbing Logan’s wrist to stop further movement. “I shouldn’t have let my career get ahead of me.”

“It’s not your fault, James,” Logan murmurs. “I could’ve tried to be more understanding–”

“No, shut up, you’re not going to make me feel any better taking all the blame.”

They stare at each other for a quiet second, observing, reading, looking for the right answers to unspoken questions.

“How was Mars?” Logan asks carefully.

A small grin hitches up the corner of James’ lips. “The moons were intimidating.” Slowly, he moves his hands from Logan’s wrists until they were palm to palm. Locking gazes, James slips his fingers through the empty spaces between Logan’s and together they seal the gap.

“I missed you,” Logan says, plain and simple and it’s all of James dreams come true.

James brings out a smile, kissing the knuckles on Logan’s hand. “I missed you, too.”


	10. Parody of Another Fandom

“Down at Cair Paravel there are four thrones, and there’s a prophecy saying that when two Sons of Adam and two Daughters of Eve sit in those four thrones, the White Witch’s tyranny will be put to an end,” Mr. Beaver says matter-of-factly, eyes focused with great intensity at the teens before him.

The longest and most awkward silence in history follows the statement and, as always, Kendall is the one to break it.

“Yeah, no.” The look on Kendall’s face easily sums up the absurdity of their situation. They’re in a little log cabin beside a dam, being served dinner by talking beavers. On his right are Logan and Carlos, knees pulled up to their chests, expending great effort in staying on the too-small stools provided. Squished on his left side is James who still hasn’t stopped staring at their more or less gracious hosts, still trying to piece together how the coat racks opened up to a wintery forest.

“No?” Mr. Beaver stills as though he can’t believe he’d just heard that. “What do you mean no?”

“We mean ‘no’ as in you’ve probably got the wrong people here,” Kendall explains, unable to keep the cynicism in his tone. “We’re four hockey players from Minnesota who are hiding from one nasty housekeeper. This” he sweeps one hand at the place “is just some weird crazy dream.” Carlos nods enthusiastically in agreement.

“Dream? You callin’ these past hundred years of eternal winter a dream?” The He-Beaver pounds his little fists on the table and stands. “’Cause I can tell you, it didn’t feel like a dream when the Witch turned poor Tumnus to stone! We have been suffering long enough, and if you think I’m just going to let our one chance at overthrowing the Witch go, then you’ve got another thing coming!”

“Mr. Beaver, come now,” his wife appeases, guiding the irate mammal back into his seat. She then turns her kindly gaze at the confused teenagers around her dinner table. “If you really believe that you’re not the ones of the prophecy–”

“We’re pretty sure we aren’t, ma’am.” Logan raises a hand, eager to make his point and get the hell out of here as soon as possible. “That prophecy Mr. Beaver quoted required two sons and two daughters and there’s not one girl among us. So, logically-speaking, we can’t be the prophecy kids because, well, it’ll throw off the balance of things... or something.”

“Are you deaf?” Mr. Beaver’s exasperated voice nearly deafens them. “The only way to  _restore_  the balance is by having the four of you defeat the White Witch and become Kings!”

Hearing this, James’ suddenly pipes up. “That being King business – does that come with a crown and all the fancy robes?” He gets an incredulous stare from the beavers and pointed looks from Logan and Carlos. Kendall elbows him. “What?”

“That’s not helping,” Kendall hisses at James.

“But they’re talking thrones and a castle, man,” James counters in an equally subdued tone. “That’s, like, the only thing greater than my popstar dream!”

Rolling his eyes, Kendall turns back to the beavers’ expectant stares. “Look, this has all been a huge misunderstanding and we really, really should be heading back–”

 The front door bursts open before Kendall can finish his sentence. A fox dusted lightly with freshly fallen snow is staring at them with great worry in its big eyes. “The Witch knows,” he wheezes out. “Maugrim’s headed here and his whole rabid pack is with him.”

“Run!”

Despite their initial doubts on everything since coming here, Carlos, Logan, Kendall, and James didn’t need to be told twice about escaping what certainly sounds like a gruesome death.

As they’re ushered into a secret underground tunnel, one thing that’s running through their mind is that indoor hockey should be a big no-no from now on. Another thing is that James should probably tell his mom to stop buying antique wardrobes that are apparently a portal to an alternate dimension. Fifteen is too young an age to die, after all.

* * *

After a narrow escape from the Witch – who is apparently a silver-haired man in a crisp ice-blue suit – and one meeting with Santa Claus –who looks like he came out of that Coca Cola Christmas commercial, the guys are thrown into another loop when they finally reach the rebels’ camp. It’s all laid out on flat ground behind some hills and every measure of impossible creatures roam the place, wearing battle armor and wielding fearsome weaponry. Santa’s gift of steel-plated hockey sticks is nothing but a joke compared to the glowing blades being forged in that blacksmith’s tent they’d just passed.

Logan’s eyes are wide, taking in as much detail as possible because at this point they have stopped kidding themselves that it’s all a dream; nearly drowning in an icy river does that to people. Beside him, he notices the swagger in James’ step, a winning smile on full display though no one seems to give the guy much notice. In front of them are Kendall and Carlos, the latter being gripped tight at the arm to stop him from wandering off. The beaver couple is walking at the very front of their party, leading them through the crowd.

Flags and tent flaps flutter in the airy atmosphere but then all conversation stops and everyone’s eyes turn towards them. A sudden tension mounts the air. From the biggest tent, a great lion comes out, bringing about him an air of true regality. All the troops hurriedly fall into formation. Following the trend, Logan and James step up until they’re aligned with their other best friends. There is no doubt that this one is the Great Lion they’ve been told all about. He’s not armored like the others and there are no weapons held between his paws, in fact, this lion walks on all four feet rather than on his hind legs like everyone else save the centaurs. His calm gaze sweeps through the gathering until they land on the beavers and the teens. There’s a second where the lion stops (Logan would’ve used the word ‘freezes’ but everyone’s kind of iffy with cold metaphors around here), then he tilts his head and furry face scrunches up in confusion.

“Who are these sons of Adam?” a deep, golden voice comes from the lion. His confusion ripples through the crowd and the beavers look at each other with troubled eyes.

The four teens carrying metal hockey sticks on their backs exchange wary glances.

“T-They’re the prophecy kids,” Mr. Beaver says, lacking the great conviction he’d had a few days ago. “They showed up at Lamp Post Waste, we were pursued by the White Witch, and we did everything to bring them here as soon as possible.”

The great mane flows with the curt nod delivered as the lion walks over, peering up at the humans that tower over him by a foot or two. “I commend your effort, Beaver, but these are the wrong children.” His judgment rings through the entire camp.

“Wait,  _what_?” Good ol’ Kendall and his awkward-silence-breaking-habit.

“There has been a mistake,” the Great One apologizes, barely carrying any sort of regret in his tone. “I was expecting a different company.”

“Really?” Kendall crosses his arms; after everything they’ve been through (see: an impromptu Survivor-type hiking trip) he certainly wasn’t going to let this go easily. “Because everyone else acted pretty damn sure that we were, and I quote,  _the chosen ones_.”

“Yeah,” Carlos interjects, sunlight bouncing off the sheen of the helmet on his head. “We’re good guys and all that. We can totally  _be_  those prophecy kids.”

“No, actually, we can’t,” Logan interjects with an awkward excuse for light laughter. He’s well aware that war is seriously going to break out in this place and personally, it’s not something he’s particularly excited about. “We’re hockey players, not foot soldiers,  _am I right_?” He nudges James for emphasis.

Said brunet, however, looks mighty torn. James stares between the regalia decorating the entire camp, the great lion in front of them, and his best friends. He imagines himself looking real good wearing a crown and a cape, sitting on a throne with a dozen subjects catering to his every whim. Plus, his three best friends were here, too, so there’s really nothing more James could ask for.

Logan clears his throat, giving James a pointed look. He tries to communicate as much as he can with his eyes, counting on the inexplicable closeness he’d nurtured with James over the past few years of their friendship for the other to empathize with him. Kendall’s stubborn nature would have them staying here under the misguided principle of proving their worth. Carlos is too pumped with adrenaline and a little drunk on the taste of the adventure they’d had so far, he’s not likely to want to return to boring Minnesota. And then there’s James. James who longs for fame and recognition, for his name to be known and revered in ages to come and, frankly, he could get that here, but the constant talk of war has got Logan worried at what cost James would achieve that dream.

The beaver couple looks worriedly at them, clasping each other’s hands and taking a few steps back.

“Personally, I vote that we see this through.” James’ well-rehearsed ‘kingly’ voice gets everyone’s eyes on him. He gets an approving nod from Kendall and then his gaze settles on Logan who tries to hide his disappointment. “I mean, what could possibly go wrong?” He smiles encouragingly.

* * *

James’ face is redder than anyone has ever seen it and his lips are pressed together so thinly it’s surprising to hear his strained voice over the chorus of applause. “We will  _never_  speak of this,” he hisses.

Logan hides a groan. “I knew we should’ve just gone home when we had the chance.”

“What are you talking about?” Carlos beams, a shiny gold helmet replacing the old one on his head. He’s garbed in deep blue robes, seated on his own throne between Logan’s and James’.

“We saved the day and we get to rule this awesome place,” Kendall says through the corner of his mouth, one hand raised to wave at their subjects. The crown on him is studded with rubies to match his red outfit, shield and hockey stick resting faithfully by the side of his throne at the far right. “I don’t get why you’re complaining.”

“Easy for you to say, High King Kendall,” James sulks, blowing a stray strand of hair out of his face. Damn circlet messing up his style. Actually, damn this stupid gown he’s forced to wear. “This is  _not_  how I pictured things ending!”

From his place at the far left, Logan adjusts his seat to get more comfortable in the layered skirt. It’s actually pretty comfortable and flowy but he isn’t going to tell anyone  _that_. “Well the prophecy did indicate two kings and two queens would rule at the end so...”

Between them, Carlos throws a kiss to a trio of naiads with flowery hair.

“Shut up, Logan.”


	11. Slice-of-life

James was a morning person. He liked getting up early and going for a jog with around the park. The crisp morning air served to enliven him and the admiring gazes from the other joggers certainly helped pump up his ego. More than once, casual conversation with pretty girls led to a breakfast date but that hasn’t been the case lately. After finishing five or six rounds, James was sweaty and he figured it was high time to get back to the apartment

“Morning,” he shouted, a spring in his step as he made his way to the kitchen counter. “What are we having today?” He pulled out the earplugs in expectation of a reply, removing the iPod strapped to his bicep and hitting pause on the Nike app.

“Did I ever tell you how much you stink up the place when you come in from jogging?” From the refrigerator, Logan straightened up, hair in disarray, wearing a thin wife beater and pajama bottoms.

“Maybe once or twice.” James shrugged, playing up his smile. “Never stopped you from making my favorite omelets.”

Logan unhooked a pair of aprons from the rack, giving one to James. “We’re having French toast and blueberries today so deal with it.”

“I can live with that.” James slipped into the apron, the one that said ‘ _Is it hot in here or is it just me?_ ’ It was something Mrs. Knight bought after one too many times of having James scorch the corners of her apron when he and Logan got into their cooking adventures.

Where the extent of Kendall’s cooking knowledge ended in sandwiches and Carlos was more than content with eating straight out of the box, Logan was all for treating cook book recipes as theorems to be tested out and James proved to be the perfect partner after amusedly catching Logan in what was supposed to be a secret endeavor. At first James got into it because that magazine article from last month’s Pop Tiger said girls liked guys who cooked, but as these sessions went on he found a lot more reasons to stay. Like the way Logan would sulk when the recipes didn’t work out, it would last for maybe thirty minutes where they’d resort to milk and cereal, then inspiration would hit. James would watch as Logan bolts from the table to go and get all science-y, correcting cooking times and ingredient measures. It’s usually in the afternoon when Logan would find James again and they’d test out the improved recipe; sometimes Carlos would watch, to get free food if nothing else.

James busied himself with filling the kettle and setting it to boil. They had discovered a mutual love for milk tea a few weeks back and now it was their preferred drink while preparing breakfast. Given their limited space, Logan would occasionally brush against James’ arms or back as he goes, or he would forcibly correct James’ hand when he’s cutting up the pieces too big. James wasn’t any less guilty, getting into Logan’s space whenever he wanted to get a closer look at what’s cooking, holding a pan or saucer high above Logan’s reach just because he can. The playfulness between them only served to make the whole experience better. With the bargain store recipe book set up on the counter, James and Logan easily got into sync and started preparing a breakfast for six.

* * *

The last batch of toast was fried to a golden brown when Logan finally took the pan off the stove. He made a quick work of setting them onto a plate and where canned blueberries were already in place. It’s eight-thirty and everyone was bound to come down for breakfast soon enough. The dishwasher James had gotten running before he went off to shower finished its task and Logan was left with dead silence.

Cooking was a science Logan never really intended to get into so much. The first times James caught him was more of a woke-up-too-early-and-can’t-go-back to-sleep-so-might-as-well-experiment-on-something type of venture but Logan was nonetheless pleased with the results. He’d gotten to know more about the best friend he thought he knew everything about. Sure James has stardom and fashion at the top of his priority list but he was also annoyingly helpful (in a good way) with an insatiable curiosity and a determination to succeed in every endeavor, even one as simplistic as cooking. So Logan began setting his alarm clock a little earlier, making sure he’ll catch James whenever the guy gets back from his morning jog. From there it had developed into a sort of habit, a mutual enjoyment of each other’s company and somewhere along the line Logan felt that something else was developed between them... well, on Logan’s part at least.

“I woke up Kendall and Carlos,” James announced, walking back into the room. His damp hair was swept back and he’s wearing an old varsity shirt and pants. “They should be down in a couple of minutes.”

“Okay, then.” Logan clapped his hands together, moving out of the dining area and into the kitchen where he pulled out a tub of vanilla ice cream from the refrigerator. “You want to wait for them or should we–”

“You’re still in your apron,” James pointed out in a tone that might’ve been giddy.

Tub in hand, Logan looked down and saw it was true.

“You look cute.”

And that’s when Logan was sure his heart just stopped. He stared at James who had moved to stand by the kitchen counter. James was smiling but Logan could detect something nervous about it, like when he was showing off at cracking eggs one-handed and was afraid of looking bad in front of Logan. “You’re not getting an extra scoop,” he tried to play it off but the heat rising to his cheeks was not helping.

“Vanilla’s not my favorite anyway,” James replied, and there’s something in his eyes that has Logan’s breath hitching in his throat.

As James took a step closer, Logan found that his own feet leading him forward. Setting down the frozen tub on the counter, Logan kept his hand on the edge to keep balance just in case. “Where are you going with this, James?”

“I know I don’t have the biggest of brains out there but” James eyes lowered to the apron again and his smile widened. “The answer’s been right in front of me all along and it’d be stupid of me to ignore it.”

Well aware of what James was implying, Logan had no reason to dissuade him. He stood still, keeping his eyes on James who’d moved in with clear intentions.

“You’re not gonna tell me to stop?”

A side-smile brightened Logan’s anxious face. “Not really.” He placed a hand on James’ chest, fingers curling into the collar, and he gave a gentle pull. James leaned into him, easy, confident, and Logan’s trepidation slipped away.

Fitting his hand on Logan’s waist, James relished the warm and homey feel that he’d unintentionally began to associate with him. He pressed their lips closer, feeling the vibration of a quiet moan from Logan. Logan tasted like the blueberries he’d denied taking from the can and James savored the knowledge of it.

They parted at the need to breathe but their noses and lips continued to nudge against each other.

“If you guys are done making out, my French toast is seriously lacking some ice cream here.”

Logan jumped back and James twisted around so fast he could’ve sprained an ankle. Sitting at the table behind them were Kendall and Carlos, the latter’s hands finally moving away from his mouth to let out a hearty laugh.

“I totally called that one, didn’t I?” Carlos bragged to Kendall, smiling too wide for his own good. “Told you there was something else cooking in there!”

“Whatever, man, I just want my ice cream.” Kendall looked meaningfully at his two other best friends. “Like, now.”

James turned to Logan who was blushing as he picked up the tub again. Logan’s hand brushed against his as he went on to deliver the food. Taking the cue, James moved to take his seat beside Carlos who leaned in wearing a conspiring grin.

“So what finally made you do it?” Carlos asked, all bright eyes and mischief.

His lips were still tingling from the kiss. James smiled and threw a wink in Logan’s direction. “Common sense. His apron said  _Kiss the Cook_ , so I did.”

Across them, Kendall almost choked on toast and ice cream while Logan laughed and patted his back.


	12. Deserted Island

Logan wakes with screams ringing in his ears. His skin is wet and it feels like it's burning. Disoriented, he sits up and scans his surroundings. It's a cave, the mouth opening to a view of the sparkling ocean. In here the call of the waves echo, their calm façade luring him out.

He finds himself in a tropical island, sun shining deliriously bright. There's a bit of a forest separating the cave cliff he's found himself in from the shoreline. Stretching his limbs, Logan descends to lower ground in search for food. His feet are sore, unprotected from the ground and the various objects lodged in it. He makes a beeline for the beach, wiping the juice running down his chin from the star-shaped fruit he'd picked from a grove of trees near the base of the cliff.

The supposedly sturdy branch he had set up by the beachfront is lying on the sand, his white shirt still tied at its tip. Logan heaves up the heavy piece of wood, digging a deeper hole in the ground and making sure his 'flag' would stay upright. It's somewhere between staring into the distance and praying for a rescue team to find him that Logan spots a curious sight.

Logan runs, breath coming out in bursts, wet sand splashing everywhere. Before him lays a man, dressed to the nines in a white three-piece suit though it doesn't look as white as it should've been. The stranger appears to be unconscious, underneath him is a large piece of driftwood. Logan kneels beside him, trying to piece together why this face looks so familiar. He presses two fingers to the pulse point on the man's neck – still beating, still breathing – and Logan wonders why those facts create a sinking feeling inside him.

"Hey." Logan lightly slaps the man's cheek, repeating the gesture until he gets a response. "Wake up. Hey."

Lips part for a groan, too-long lashes flutter and a hazy eyes blink into focus at the face leaning over him. "What…?" A dry voice comes from his parched throat. He's dizzy with the smell of saltwater and the intense brightness from the sun. The face over him pinches with concern. Vaguely, he registers that it's his first human contact in hours, possibly days. He tries to look around but his neck feels stiff and uncooperative. "Am I dead?" he asks, oddly aloof at the idea.

Logan shoots him a concerned look. "Not even close."

A sound that can only be termed as annoyed comes from the other man. Eyes squeezed shut, his hands find their way to his torso and he assumes a pose fit for a casket.

"Um. What are you doing?" Logan asks, unnerved at the antics of the man before him.

"I can't take any more of this," is the reply he gets.

 _Great_ , Logan thinks.  _I'm stranded on an island with a crazy person._

"Well, uh." Logan stands up, looking down at his fellow survivor (of some sort). "Not to be rude or anything but I'd really appreciate it if you don't die here."

Eyes snap open and narrow up at him. "Why not?"

Logan shrugs. "I'd rather not explain to the rescuers why I have a corpse on the beach when they get here."

"Rescuers are coming?" A perfectly trimmed eyebrow rises as the man's interest is piqued. "How are you so sure?"

"It was a pretty expensive ship, I'm sure some port somewhere is missing it." Logan looks out at the ocean, wishing for the signs of a rescue speed boat to come up. "Families waiting on the other side must be looking for whoever was supposed to arrive and asking questions to why they're not there yet. Besides, a big boat like that must've been plotted in a GPS system. They'll figure out what happened eventually."

"Eventually?" The hopeless look is back. "I can't wait for  _eventually_!"

"You're the dramatic type, aren't you?" Logan muses.

"And you're–" Hazel eyes squint up at him, a pout on his chapped lips. "You're kind of familiar…" A curious look washes over him. "Do I know you from somewhere?"

Unwilling to admit to having the same curiosities, Logan shakes his head. "Don't think so. Anyway, are you just gonna lie there or do you want me to show you around?"

Huffing, the man sits up. "What is this, MTV Cribs?"

* * *

"All those 'if you were stranded in an island' questions seem so stupid now," James says, swinging down from a low-hanging branch. He touches the earth and the squirms of discomfort are still there but they're considerably more subdued from when Logan first urged him to walk around barefooted. His undershirt is soaked with sweat, his pants more brown than their original white.

"Duh." Logan walks up to him, pale skin blooming red from the constant exposure to the sun. "But do enlighten me, what would you have brought with you if you knew that you were going to be stranded in a deserted island?"

"First thing is my lucky comb," James smiles proudly, whipping out the object from his pants pocket. "Still got it." He brushes back his hair for show while Logan rolls his eyes. "Second is a pretty woman." At this James sighs wistfully. "And finally, a private jet."

"You can fly a jet?" Logan asks, bending over a shrub to inspect the berries.

"Well… no."

Laughing, Logan picks a berry and throws it at James. "Then choose something you can actually drive."

James catches the fruit and throws it back. "Psh. Whatever. Like, you'd have any impressive answers."

Ducking away from the projectile, Logan plants his hands on his hips. "I'd have a solar-powered computer system, unrestricted access to any satellite, and my good friend Kendall."

"Ken-who?"

"My best friend," Logan explains. "He's probably worrying his head off right now. I promised him I'd be back to watch him win the finals."

"Football or basketball?"

"Hockey, actually."

James chuckles. "Lame."

"What?" Logan looks scandalized. "Hockey is  _brutal_ , I'll have you know."

"Yeah, whatever."

"Hey! Like some pretty woman is going to be any help!" Logan gives chase as James shouts, heading for the beach.

"Believe me, she will!" James throws a wink back and Logan tries so hard not to make the connection.

On the sands, far enough that high tide won't reach it, is a huge 'SOS' sign. Their makeshift flag waves with the humid ocean air, calling for attention.

* * *

It's been four days and the storm has rolled back in with a vengeance.

Logan is wearing James' white blazer but it isn't enough to fight off the cold. Beside him, James lays awake, stubble peppering his jawline.

A particularly loud thunderclap sparks the air with electricity and they both jump, shoulders bumping awkwardly with how close their sides were pressed together. Outside, a thick sheet of rain almost blocks the ocean from view but even without looking they both recall its tempestuous nature all too clearly.

"The rescuers will find us right?" James asks, his hushed voice the loudest thing in Logan's ear.

"Once the storm clears up, they will." Logan shifts into a more comfortable position, turning half-way to face James. "Get some sleep, James."

"And you'll be there when I wake up?"

"I promise."


	13. Buddy Cops/Detective

The day James Diamond walked into the forensics lab was the day Logan knew he was doomed. It was nothing personal. Logan wasn’t really the opinionated type but one look at the man and he was sure this wasn’t going to end well.

See, Logan has a bit of a problem with life and its metaphorical lemons. He went to med school, graduated with honors and passed the licensure exam without breaking a sweat. He was supposed to be a surgeon but somewhere along the line he met Carlos and Carlos was all about the glory of the police force.

Protecting people, hunting villains, the family business! (Carlos’ words, not Logan’s, though Logan’s pretty sure he’s heard that from some TV show before.)

Veering towards forensic pathology was an easy leap from his initial medical studies and Logan couldn’t say it wasn’t worth it because he’s been on the job for years now and he’s loved every minute of it.

Until James Diamond came along.

It was another grueling summer but Logan was thankful for the heaps of cases piled on his team. They kept him in the labs instead of being out in the dastardly heat of the city. Logan scribbled notes on his clipboard, peering at the cadaver before him through thick-rimmed glasses. He lifted one of the arms to continue his observations, noting the evenness of the gash that ran from the side down to navel. Finishing up his report, Logan wheeled the slate back and locked it in.

More than half of his lunch hour was gone by then but Logan was used to that. He placed the clipboard on top of his desk and disposed of his gloves, shouldering off his coat before grabbing his backpack and making a run for the cafeteria. He hasn’t even gotten out the door when someone entered it and blocked his way.

“Logan! How ‘ya been, buddy?”

He paused, blinked, and a wide smile came over him. “Carlos!” They hugged and that was when Logan saw the guy standing behind his friend. Logan’s first impression of him was that he looked too pretty to be a guy. Of course, Logan didn’t say that out loud, he stepped back and clapped Carlos’ shoulder. “I’m doing good. What brings you all the way down here?”

“I’m here to get you eating right,” Carlos said, tapping the badge on his chest twice for emphasis. “Seriously, what are you still doing in the labs? What happened to your lunch break, man?”

“I was just getting there,” Logan replied sheepishly, looking past Carlos’ shoulder and finding the yet unnamed guy smirking at him. “Uh, who’s your friend?”

Carlos gasped, suddenly remembering said friend he’d brought along. He jumped back and looked between the two of them. “Logan, this is James Diamond. He’s a criminal profiler I especially recommended to work on a case here. James, this is Logan Mitchell, long-time buddy of mine and as you can see, he practically lives in the forensics lab.”

“Yeah, well, you got me into this,” Logan jested. He extended a hand to James who held him in a firm grip. “Nice to meet you.”

“Shouldn’t a doctorate title go with that name or...?” James gave him a smile that Logan swore could’ve passed for a toothpaste commercial.

“Oh.” Logan pursed his lips in consideration. “Actually, yeah, but Dr. Mitchell’s my dad... Just call me Logan.”

James smile turned sweeter. “Don’t mind if I do.”

Letting go of James’ hand , Logan nodded at Carlos. “So I was headed to the cafeteria for lunch, you guys wanna join me?”

Carlos opened his mouth to answer but James spoke ahead of it.

“We’d love to.” James looked Carlos in the eyes and made a happy face.

Logan stared between the two of them.

Carlos chuckled. “Sure, why not? There’s always room for dessert.”

* * *

In the span of one afternoon, Logan had verified that James would indeed be a permanent fixture in his life (or at least in his work) for the foreseeable future.

James spent the afternoon in the laboratory with the forensics team and a few guys on the task force. He was sent to deal with the series of apparent suicides that had popped up a total of three bodies just this month. Carlos introduced James to the team, told the guys to play nice, and encouraged that they help as much as they can to resolve the case before another body dropped dead.

Logan picked up his clipboard along with an envelope and was heading off to deliver his report to the chief inspector’s desk when James stalled him.

“You’re not working this case with me?” James asked.

“Nope.” Logan gave a tight smile. “Dr. Woods is in charge of that case.”

The brunette held up the case file that held what data their team had gathered so far. She blushed when James looked at her. “Dr. Jennifer Woods. Pleasure to meet you.” She handed the folder over. “I’ve heard a lot about your work, Mr. Diamond. I trust you’ll lead us to the right culprit.”

“Well that is my job,” James winked.

Logan rolled his eyes at the collective sigh he could almost hear coming from the team. “Carlos, I’m heading out,” he announced, already one foot out the door. Behind him, he heard Carlos gave a cheery goodbye before coming after him.

“What’s your rush?” Carlos caught up with him just as the elevators opened.

“Nothing.”

* * *

True enough, James did his job well and the force was able to intercept the killer before another ‘suicide’ could be committed.

Logan breathed a great sigh of relief at the news, more for the fact that James should be transferred back to whichever station he came from now that he’d solved the case. Logan didn’t exactly hate James but he found the man’s presence to be rather aggravating. The first thing Logan loved about working in the labs was that they were peaceful. When James contaminated his precious labs, not a single hour went by without Logan hearing a wistful sigh from someone and it doesn’t take a Ph. D. holder to know who exactly they’re directed at.

James was definitely not blind to these whiffs of adoration, especially since he’d begun calling half the staff with pet names two days in. Logan had been the target of it for sometime but he never really responded to them and eventually James got tired. Doesn’t mean James stopped bothering him, though. Despite having Logan plaintively telling him from the start that Dr. Woods was the one assigned to his case, James persisted in getting a second opinion on Logan once his team finished their examinations.

It was annoying but that didn’t change the fact that Logan was seriously fighting off a smile at the memory of it. Maybe he was a little harsh on the guy. After all, James had only ever been nice to him, if a bit exaggerated. As he entered the laboratories that morning, Logan decided that he’d ask for James’ e-mail from Carlos later and send the guy a congratulatory note. Satisfied with his decision, Logan shrugged off his backpack and put on the coat he’d left folded on the back of his desk chair.

Jennifer waved good morning as she passed by and pretty soon everyone was in. A couple of apprentices were rolling out their first case of the day when the door burst open and there stood James, looking mighty pleased with himself. A few applauses and some greetings of ‘good job’ came from the forensics team and James accepted them humbly though he never once stopped walking until he was right in front of Logan’s desk.

“You’ll never believe what just happened, Logiebear,” James grinned.

Logan cringed, instinctively leaning away from James. All positive thoughts towards James promptly stopped transmitting at that point. He was almost afraid of what James would reveal. With narrowed eyes, Logan ventured, “What?”

James’ grin took a turn for the smug. “Well, the chief was so impressed with my work that he had me transferred here permanently. Guess that means I’ll be seeing you around more often.” His voice dropped into what Logan would dare call flirtatious and the look on him was just –

 _Geez_. Logan wouldn’t be able to take any more of this. His whole face and neck felt like they were on fire. It was like he was backed into a corner and James just won’t stop pressing in. Before he could stop himself, Logan adjusted his glasses with a not-so-subtle middle finger directed at James.

James only laughed.

* * *

It’s a couple of months later and Logan couldn’t feel a thing.

The sterile smell was familiar but alien at the same time. He walked the pristine halls half-hurrying and half-stalling, his mind still undecided whether or not he should –  _could_ – actually go through with it. The room number on the screen of his phone came up and Logan held in a breath. Sitting on a plastic chair outside was Officer Zevon.

He looked up with weary eyes at Logan’s approach. “Dr. Mitchell.” Dak stood, looking between Logan and the door. “You here to visit James?”

Numb, Logan managed a nod.

“The nurses are checking in on him,” Dak explained. “He’s in bad shape.”

“How bad?” Logan hated the way his voice crumpled at the end.

Blowing out a flat whistle, Dak dug his hands into the pockets of his uniform. “Two bullets to the shoulder and a concussion.”

The door opened and Logan hastened to step away for the nurses to exit. He glimpsed a view of James in the hospital bed before the door swung shut. James looked terrible.

“You sure you wanna go in there, doc?” Dak stared down at Logan.

Feeling oddly defensive, Logan straightened his posture and pushed the black-rimmed glasses up his nose. “Are you going to stop me?”

Dak shrugged. “It’s just that James sounded angry at you before we went on the mission. I didn’t think you’d want to be here.”

Logan’s confidence shrunk, feet shuffling awkwardly against the floor. “Of course I want to be here,” he mumbled, staring at the door. “Get some rest, I’ll take over for you.”

“Are you even allowed to make that call?” Dak asked, a quiet laugh underlining his question.

“I was training to be a surgeon, officer.” Logan eyed him gravely. “You can leave here peacefully or I can send you to the ER.”

Chuckling, Dak pulled off the cap from his head and bowed away. “Good night, doc. Don’t be too hard on him.”

If that was a double entendre, it completely flew over Logan’s head. He entered the room, too bright for housing an unconscious occupant. The walls are a pale blue color, decorated with a small square painting of flowers and a clock that read 7:24PM. Logan settled into the plastic chair beside the bed, putting his bag by his feet. It’s only then that Logan allowed himself to properly look at James; it’s an image that would haunt him in his sleep.

* * *

Logan woke, soothed by the feeling of fingers carding through his hair. He grunted, registering the ache in his spine from the uncomfortable position. Logan blinked, smothering a yawn on his sleeve and then looking up. The hand in his hair was retracted and Logan found himself staring straight into hazel eyes.

“Hey, there sleeping beauty,” James greeted, voice muffled by the oxygen mask over his mouth.

“H-Hi...” Logan drowsily sat back, absently patting down his hair and righting his glasses. “Are you hurting anywhere? Should I call a nurse?”

“I’m okay,” James assured him, his smile waning beneath tired eyes. “Did you sleep well?”

Cricking his neck, Logan replied, “Not  particularly.” When nothing else was said, Logan deferred his gaze to the bedside table where a fruit basket and a couple of get-well cards sat. “Carlos brought corn dogs yesterday but the nurses weren’t happy with it.”

A dry chuckle came from James. “Of course he would.”

“The basket’s from the chief, some cards from the division people, that purple one’s from Jennifer,” Logan listed off the objects.

“So what did you bring?” James questioned, covered by the starched blanket from the chest down, bandages peeking from the sleeve of his hospital gown.

Logan wet his lips. "I'm here... with an apology."

"Apology accepted," James responded without hesitation.

"But–"

"We'll both be better off if we just forget about the stupid argument, agree?" James posed the question like a statement, the low arch of his brows asking for compliance.

"Just let me say sorry," Logan pleaded to which James smiled thinly.

"Personally, the fact that you were sleeping here, obviously tired out coming straight from work says sorry enough." James motioned for Logan to come closer, careful not to move his aching shoulder. "But we can also do it this way: I'll forgive you if you forgive me for getting shot at and giving myself a concussion."

Leaning his arms along the bedside, Logan shook his head. "You're impossible, James."

"I think the word you're looking for is  _irresistible_."

Logan scoffed, not even disguising the smile that's playing on his lips.

* * *

It’s past six, the lab was empty, and Logan was nearly done with his examination. Dr. Jennifer Woods and her apprentice, a sprightly young woman also named Jennifer, were helping him.

This gunshot victim was delivered to them late in the afternoon, killer unknown but the feds were hoping the bullets retrieved would answer their questions.

The doors slid open and even without turning around, Logan knew who it was.

“Really, Logie? It’s a hot Friday night and you’re holding these pretty ladies hostage in here?”

The two Jennifers waved at the newcomer. “Hi, Mr. Diamond.”

“We’re working,” Logan dismissed him, or tried to at least.

“It’s almost done, anyway,” Dr. Woods smiled at James. “Take a seat; we’ll be over before you know it.”

“Okay, Jennifer, careful now.” Logan held up a plastic bag, into which the apprentice dropped a blood-soaked bullet, then another.

James walked over and stood beside Logan, peering over the shorter man’s shoulders. “Hm. Early twenties, left-handed, that tattoo is henna around a week old, there’s–” He reached out hand to lift up the girl’s chin but a gloved hand slapped his away.

“Don’t you have your own work to do?” Logan closed the ziplock bag ferociously, throwing a pointed look at James who only sidled up to him even closer.

Hiding their smiles, Dr. Woods took the evidence bags from Logan while Jennifer took over the notations and promptly zipped up the body bag. “We’ll take these up to the deputy’s office,” Dr. Woods stated, a conniving smirk on her features. “Leave you gentlemen to finish things down here.”

“See you on Monday.” Jennifer waved back as she and her mentor went out the door.

Raising a brow at the women’s exit, Logan’s attention was swayed when James planted a kiss on the top of his head. “James,” he muttered in a warning tone, pulling off the latex gloves.

“Let’s have dinner,” James whispered, leaning back to meet Logan’s eyes.

“What? Right now?” Logan scrunched up his nose. “But I smell like dead people.”

“I don’t mind.” Wrapping his arms around Logan’s waist, James welcomed the familiar weight of Logan against him.

“And this is why we can’t have nice things.” Logan hummed, angling his head just right to press their lips together. James’ arms tighten around him as their kiss dragged on, the soft sensations fueling the heat under their skin. He licked at James’ lips, breathing in a hot exhale from the other when they parted. “This is so unprofessional.”

“I don’t know,” James shrugged, nipping at Logan’s bottom lip. “We’ve done worse things than make out in front of a cadaver before.”

“Stop.” Logan laid his head on James’ shoulder where the wounds from months ago had finally healed.

Chuckling, James couldn’t help but tease, “That’s not our safeword, Logiebear.”

“ _James_.”

* * *

Logan was sure this was a date. It’s a date and he’s not freaking out, how in the world was he not freaking out? Instead, he drank more soda and tilted his head the other way, listening to every word that was leaving James mouth. He’d been staring at it for the better part of the hour, wondering how it’s gotten that sheen that makes it look so pink and kissable. The only reason those thoughts passed unceremoniously through his mind was because he’d thought about them before: that time James showed up at his house when he called in sick because of a cold; six weeks ago when they went to a midnight premiere; yesterday at lunch when James stole a grape from his fruit platter. “So what does your mom running a make-up company have to do with you taking up a behavioral science degree?” Logan asked.

Dipping a french fry into ketchup, James took a bite before continuing. “Well, you know.” He chewed for a second. “I’ve been told that it would be a waste for a face like this not to get a taste of the big screen but I wanted to prove that I’m more than that.”

“Okay... but psychology?” Logan wondered, spinning the straw around his drink. “That’s kind of...”

“Kind of what?” James dared him.

“It’s kind of impressive,” Logan concluded, lifting his drinking cup in a toast.

A satisfied grin lifted the corners of James’ mouth. “I am so much more than just a pretty face.”

“I know.”

“So what else do you want to know?” James shook some salt off his fries. Even under the unflattering fluorescent diner lights, he looked every bit the runway model that his mother used to be.

Logan considered his options for a moment. Finally, he smiled sweetly and looked James in the eyes. “Is this a date, James?”

If possible, the gleam in James’ eyes brightened. “It is to me,” he replied, honest and sure.

Logan felt a thrill at James’ confidence. He hadn’t been on many dates but Logan just knew which cards to play. “Just so you know, I don’t put out until the third or fourth date.”

James’ whole face floods with laughter and he took a second before leaning over the table. His eyes demanded Logan’s attention and Logan willingly surrendered. “Well believe me, Logie, when I say we’re  _way_  past the fourth date right now.”


	14. Allegiance-Swap

It’s nighttime but not so late that James would deem it time to sleep. In fact, James had just finished a hot bath, his whole body singing with accomplishment after a hard day’s work. His latest project had wrapped up this afternoon – a starring role in a major blockbuster – and James should be on his way to a cocktail party to celebrate the occasion. Stepping out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped low around his hips, James headed for the expensive walk-in closet, looking for a particular designer suit that would fit the movie’s theme. He wasn’t even halfway done with browsing his wardrobe when the phone rang; James let it go to voicemail.

“Evening, James,” a woman’s voice filtered through the open doorway. “Listen, I wanna say great work on that movie, I’ve seen a couple of clips from Lee and he’s really impressed. Sorry about missing out on shooting, this being the last day and all, but a certain child star wasn’t behaving and I had to intervene. Anyway, I got a very concerning call this afternoon.”

James raised a brow at that, eyes drawn away from deciding between the two ties he held in his hands.

“A Dr. Hortense Mitchell contacted me,” the woman continued, sounding uncertain.

At that point, James’ whole body froze. A tightness came out of nowhere and wrapped around his heart like a vice.

“He called about, erm, organ donation?” An awkward laugh was muffled by the static. “Dr. Mitchell faxed me a contract you’ve signed eight years ago, it was a deal between you and a Mr. Carlos Garcia... It’s – it’s ridiculous James. I know you’re probably at the cocktail party right now and I wouldn’t want to sour your mood so I’m gonna cut it here. Enjoy the night, James, you deserve it. I’ll call you again in the morning. Bye.”

James was long out of the bathroom by the time his agent finished the call. His breath was stilted as he stared down at his house phone, a jumbled mess of thoughts and questions running through his head. One finger was posed over the Return Call button, trembling visibly as James felt fear overcome him.

Eight years was too long to hold back on conversation.

* * *

“And finally, you get dibs on any of my organs should you need them.” James half-glared at the teen sitting opposite him. “Is there anything  _else_?”

Carlos sat back, arms crossed over his chest in satisfaction. “Nope.”

With a furious flourish, James signed the contract and had Carlos do the same. Oh, the things he did to secure a gorgeous date.

Their deal centered on the winning coupon Carlos had unknowingly held onto from that time James dragged all four of them to the premiere of The Vampire Stories Chronicles Saga Trilogy starring Aubrey Stewart. That month’s Pop Tiger revealed the winning ticket number and it happened to be the one in Carlos’ possession.

At the time, it proved to be a waste considering Aubrey’s bodyguards tagged along for the whole date and James was not allowed within three feet of her. He came home to find the house empty save for Logan, who immediately looked up from his textbook at James’ arrival. When Logan noted the dismayed look on James, he gave him a consoling pat and opened up a tub of ice cream.

Those were simpler times and then things spiraled out of control.

Promotional events haven’t even started to roll out for their first album when Griffin cut-off the funding for Roque Records. He said it was due to a miscalculation on the marketing department’s report and that the boy band gamble was making negative profits for the corporation.

Before they knew it, Big Time Rush was over and they were unceremoniously kicked back to Minnesota.

Dreams crushed, James became even more devastated when his friends so casually shrugged off their failed quest for stardom and moved on with their lives. He knew that he was meant for bigger things and when producer Hawk offered to take him on, he didn’t hesitate in signing the contract.

It was too late for Gustavo and the Big Time Rush trio. No matter what anyone said, James was truly the most recognizable member of the band and without him their fanbase was considerably depleted.

George Hawk certainly had a kooky side to him but he had an unstoppable drive especially when it came to destroying competition. He gave James a microphone, put him on a pedestal, and stood back as the crowds came to cheer.

Fame never did come without a price and James was too blinded by his thirst for it that he’d signed his name without looking at the fine print. For the duration of the contract, James was prohibited from contacting the people involved in what had once been Big Time Rush.

* * *

The contract tied James to Hawk Records for three years. James produced two albums under the label. Being a solo artist was an easier sell and James was really easy on the eyes, a fact that merely doubled the attention given to his music.

Three years was a long time for James to think a great deal about what he’d done with his life and what he was planning to do with it. He found himself a better manager and together, they molded his career into a work of art that people would flock to and gaze upon with longing. James was free then but he knew that he was besmirched by all the wrongs he can never undo. Focusing on his career was what James did best, this was what he’d chosen over his friends, over the people who truly knew and loved him.

His career was his life and for about the hundredth time since he’d torn the renewal contract in front of Hawk years back, James hesitated in dialing the person he hasn’t called for the longest time.

“What are you waiting for?”

Looking up, James met the concerned gaze of his talent manager. They’re at a cafe the morning after she called him, supposedly breakfasting but James hadn’t been able to stomach anything since last night. “I’m nervous,” James admitted, staring at the phone in his hands – Delilah’s phone, the one that Dr. Mitchell called.

“James Diamond,” Delilah started in a scolding tone. “After convincing me that the paperwork is legit and that under no circumstances should I try to stop you from donating your kidney – this is ridiculous. This whole charade is ridiculous, James, do you really want to deal with scarring? And what do we say when the media finds out? I mean–”

“He changed his number,” James pointed out. “I just... I haven’t spoken to him, to any of them, in so long that...”

A groan came from across the table. “What is it with you actors and the flair for dramatics?” Delilah sipped at her coffee. “Call him.”

Squeezing his eyes shut, James pressed call.

* * *

Five hours later, James found himself at a private hospital in Wisconsin. The paparazzi at the airport were scarce and he’d arrived at the hospital without incident. He’s walked through the system by a particularly helpful nurse and then made to wait in an empty consultation room.

“Will Logan be here?” James asked just before the nurse left. She looked confusedly at him until he remembered that the Logan they knew here wasn’t exactly the Logan he’d known then. “Dr. Mitchell, I mean...”

“Dr. Hortense Mitchell will be here shortly, yes,” the nurse answered. “He’s the surgeon overseeing Mr. Garcia.”

Clasping his hands together, James nodded. “Thank you, miss.” The moment he heard the door close, James sat down on the bed and buried his face in his hands.

It’s a few minutes later when the door creaked open and soft footsteps padded in, followed by the click of the lock.

His throat had sealed in on itself even before he found the courage to look up. Logan’s expression was closed off and James was sure the glassy look in his eyes was just a trick of the light. He managed to nod and Logan finally came closer.

Logan’s body had built up quite a bit, filling in his shoulders and abdomen. He wore green scrubs underneath a white lab coat. Slight stubble roughened his chin and his eyes were sharpened by the strict line of his lips.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Diamond, I appreciate your speedy response,” Logan recited the lines like he would a textbook. It was the same tone he used when James called him that morning. “The results of the tests you’ve undertaken earlier are now with me” he kept his eyes on the folder in his hands “and so far things are looking good. However, there are still a couple more tests and it might take a few days.”

“I have all the time in the world,” James blurted out, staring at Logan, begging silently for something concrete.

“Good.” Logan shut the folder swiftly, gaze locking onto something near James’ shoulder. “Then you’re now free to go. Come back tomorrow at nine am for the next set of tests.” He made to walk out when James called him back.

“Logan, wait.”

The surgeon paused but made no reply.

“How are you?” It’s a lame attempt and James knew it.

“I have other patients to attend to, Mr. Diamond. I must take my leave.”

And that was the first time James Diamond ever truly felt left behind.

* * *

A hotel room served as his home for the next few days. James saw Logan – or Dr. Mitchell as everyone referred to him here – a couple more times but conversation between them only strained further with every encounter. He crossed paths with Katie as he was heading out of the hospital one morning. She’s all grown up but the feistiness in her hadn’t diminished a bit.

Katie stopped upon seeing him and James tried for a smile. “You’re pathetic,” was all she said before roughly shouldering past him. His body guard meant to follow after her but James held him back.

“Let’s just go.”

* * *

Carlos’ parents were in the room, as was Dr. Mitchell. James stared at the bed where Carlos laid, looking ashen but smiling wide when his eyes found James.

“You made it,” Carlos grinned. “I told them you would never break a promise.”

It’s the first remotely friendly comment James had received since coming here and he couldn’t help but tear up a little. “You got my autograph all over that thing, what was I supposed to do?” James chuckled and went up to Carlos when the man opened his arms for a hug. As they pulled apart, James noticed Dr. Mitchell staring at him. “So are we going to start the operation or whatever now or...?”

Clearing his throat, Logan began to explain the procedure and what it would entail. James listened intently, finally getting a grasp of the situation.

Hereditary disease. Kidney failure. No matches. Desperate. Living donor risks. Long recovery period. The words were stark in James’ head and they honestly scared him but he couldn’t back out, not now, not after everything.

The paperwork was signed and there was a split second where James thought Dr. Mitchell wouldn’t hand over the pen to him.

Compiling the sheets, Dr. Mitchell headed out to finalize the preparations. When he left, Katie and Jennifer Knight entered the room looking rightfully worried.

James stepped back to give them space but was surprised when Mrs. Knight went over to hug him. He held her just as tight and she patted his back before pulling away.

“How have you been, James?” Mrs. Knight asked, a motherly smile directed at him.

“Feeling much better now,” James replied, his eyes spotting Katie who was staring at him with narrowed eyes. “Hi, Katie.”

“Don’t you  _‘Hi, Katie’_  me,” she snapped. “You can’t just show up and expect–”

“Katie,” Mrs. Knight warned her daughter.

“He obviously hasn’t thought this through enough,” Katie pointed out. Then she turned to Carlos. “No offense, but I’ve told you so many times how stupid that contract was and you still went through with it!”

“ _Nuera_.” Carlos’ father clapped a hand on her shoulder, voice booming as he looked kindly down at her. “I will give you advice that my heart doctor gave me,  _calm down_. The boys are big enough to handle themselves, yes?”

Katie forced a smile. “Alright. I’ll calm down. But wait ‘til Kendall gets here.”

It was fortunate that the nurses arrived with a gurney for James because he felt nauseous all of a sudden.

* * *

Dr. Mitchell’s eyes were the last thing James remembered before the sleeping gas took effect; they were also the first thing he saw upon waking up.

After seeing him almost exclusively in uniform for the past five days, James was startled to find Dr. Mitchell in casuals, sitting by the foot of his bed. As his awareness heightened, James realized he was in a single-occupant hospital room. The curtains were drawn but the slightest sliver revealed a starry sky. Everything was still.

James breathed in, feeling the stretch of his lungs as air filled his body, and then there was the ache. He felt the abnormal hollowness and the protest of muscle just underneath his right rib. Fingers twitched into the green blanket covering his body and panic rose from the deepest parts of him.

In a flash, Logan was there, holding James’ hand and looking him in the eyes. “Deep breaths, James,” he commanded. He demonstrated an inhale that James dutifully followed. They kept breathing in sync until James finally calmed down.

James closed his eyes, squeezing Logan’s hand before letting go. “Thanks.” He felt Logan leave his side only to have the bed dip again by his foot.

Logan adjusted his seat, brushing off the cover of the book he’d let clatter to the floor in his haste to counter James’ impending panic attack.

“Were you reading to me?” James asked, confused as to how to react to the idea.

“I was,” Logan affirmed, marking his page before closing the book again. “I guess that was my way of apologizing.”

“For what? All you’ve done is help. How’s Carlos?”

“Kendall’s staying with him.” Logan set the book on his lap, pinning a serious look at James. “I’m saying sorry for how I’ve been treating you ever since you flew in.”

James sobered up. “That was my own fault.”

“Not entirely.” Logan stared at his hands. “You were always the one to tell us to follow our dreams, that opportunities only come once in a lifetime. You were made for the limelight James, we all knew that, and for the short while that we lived your dream as Big Time Rush, I admit I kind of liked it.”

“It definitely improved your dancing,” James chanced a joke, smiling when Logan nodded his agreement.

“But then reality checked in and we were more than happy to get our life back on track.” Logan clasped his hands together. “Just as you’ve always dreamed of being a star, I’ve always wanted to become a doctor. Kendall and Carlos have their own thing, too.”

“I know that.”

“I know you do. And I guess it’s only in hindsight that I realized you were only pursuing your dream. I can’t fault you for that.” Logan held James’ gaze for a long minute with neither of them speaking.

“Hawk’s contract forbade me from contacting you guys. All of you, even Mrs. Knight and Katie.”

The way James sounded utterly helpless at the revelation made Logan wince.

“And I know I should’ve –  _could’ve_  – found a way but Hawk was dead serious with it.” James hated how he was babbling out everything. “He kept booking concerts and signings and guest appearances and while that boosted my popularity, it also kept me from thinking too much. I was absorbed into the system, Logan, and it just felt  _so right_  having all those people look up to me and–”

“James.” Logan calmly stopped the increasingly flustered tirade. “I understand.”

James’ bottom lip wibbled.

“I’m the smart one, remember?” Logan appeased him. “Now, no more talking and let me get into doctor-mode.” When James smiled, Logan continued. “What you need to focus on right now is recuperating. You’ve got stitches and we’re going to have to monitor how your body’s coping with the absence of your kidney.” He went on to explain the nitty-gritty details and then answered every one of James’ questions.

“So what’s the book you were reading?” James tilted his head, trying to read the cover.

“Oh, this.” Logan raised the book for James to see clearly. “The Princess Bride. Picked it up from the nurses’ station. I’d advise against exerting too much effort, James.” He added when James opened a hand, asking for it.

“Well, what am I supposed to do?” James frowned.

“Just settle down,” Logan grinned, swiping his thumb briefly against the tip of his tongue poised between his lips before flipping to the right page.

* * *

“So, yeah, thanks.”

James blinked, staring at Kendall who was shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other. He let three more seconds pass before he replied. “I was really kind of expecting a punch or two.”

Kendall huffed, face smooth as ever though there were tell-tale lines around his eyes. “Logan said I can’t do that until you’re properly healed.”

“Of course.” James nodded.

“Logan also told me about what really happened with Hawk,” Kendall continued. “You’re not working for him anymore, are you?”

“Nope,” James said with a satisfied grin. “Got out of there the second the contract expired and I took my fans with me.”

“Harsh.” Kendall smirked approvingly.

“I’ve branched out into acting roles with my new manager,” James supplied, to which Kendall responded with a ‘Duh’.

“You face is all over TV. Heck, our Sel-Mart branch carries your CDs and merch.”

The tension between them was considerably diminished by the time the lunch nurse rolled in and Kendall had to go back to Carlos’ room.

When Logan dropped by in the afternoon, James popped the question that had been brewing in his mind.

“Kendall has a wedding ring,” James said as Logan took his usual spot at the foot of the bed.

Logan smiled. “Yeah, it’s–”

“And Carlos has a wedding ring, too.” James narrowed his eyes at Logan. “Tell me.”

Laughing, Logan shook his head. “What do you want me to tell you?”


	15. Sex-Swap

Their first game of the season was coming up and their captain wanted the whole team to be in perfect shape. They would be defending the field hockey state championship title this year and none of them planned on giving it up; the seniors especially. It was only the beginning of the year and the new members were still getting used to the captain’s strict regimen. In spite of it, practice was coming along smoothly and there was a good feeling all around that they would be able to hold on to their title.

Then the sprinklers turned on.

Carla Garcia jumped back from the sudden spray of water that hit her legs. She screamed as a body collided into her from behind and both of them fell to the ground. Another player tripped from the awkward positioning of their hockey sticks and a fourth one veered off course from the pile just in time. Indignant shrieks came from the young women who suddenly found themselves drenched.

Pushing back wet hair from her face, Jamila Diamond glared in the direction where the laughter was coming from. “It’s those boys,” she shouted, drawing everyone’s attention to the four guys just outside the playing field.

“Get them!” The girls shrieked, hoisting up their hockey sticks and giving chase like an angry mob. Sensing the bad vibes from the pissed off hockey team, the boys scampered off; their screams of panic only served to further the girls’ drive for revenge.

“Come on.” Kendra helped up the girls tangled together on the field. From the corner of her eyes, she saw Jamie dragging a shorter girl wearing the number 5 jersey to join the fray. Shaking her head, she focused on making sure that her girls were okay.

“Who was it?” Carla demanded, glaring through the facemask of her helmet.

“The ice hockey dorks,” Kendra supplied, nodding to where Jamie and the rest had gone.

“Ooh, this is totally the last straw!” Carla gripped her stick as though it was a broadsword. “Let’s get them.”

* * *

Jamie gave a final whack of the wooden instrument on the cowering boys before moving back, satisfied. Beside her, Kendra had her arms crossed as she looked down on the usual suspects.

“How many times do we have to beat you up before you learn your lesson?” Kendra sighed, hand planted firmly on her hip.

“W-We don’t do it again,” one of the guys muttered; Angelo was his name if Kendra remembered correctly.

“That’s what you said last time,” Carla stated, moving in a fierce step and looking ready to hit the boys again but Kendra held the shorter girl at bay. Undeterred, she resorted to verbal assaults. “This time there’d be no more Miss Goody-goody, it’s gonna be juvie for you slimeballs.”

“Technically,” a high-pitched voice spoke up from behind her. “Setting off the sprinklers is not a criminal offense so we can’t actually–”

“Darn it, Logie, I was testing out the bad-cop approach.” Carla turned around, lifting the cage of her helmet to pout at the teen.

Hortensia “Logan” Mitchell’s expression turned sorry.

“We can still report these nutjobs to the principal,” Jamie pointed out, to which the other team members agreed.

As they heralded the delinquents into the school, Jamie hung back and nudged Logan’s shoulder. “Hey,” she gave the other girl a smile. “Are we still on for that tutoring session tomorrow?”

Logan tucked her hair behind one ear, replying with a smile of her own. “Of course.”

“Sweet.”

* * *

“Done!” Jamie proudly slid the finished worksheets across the table to Logan.

It was Saturday morning and they were at the Diamond household, having breakfast and doing homework. Golden brown waffles and mango juice joined the laptops, notebooks, and pens on the tabletop; the saccharine aroma was greatly conducive to their learning.

Logan took the papers and started checking Jamie’s answers as the brunette set another waffle on her plate. This was a routine they’ve honed to perfection ever since their English teacher encouraged James to get a tutor back in the seventh grade.

“Good work,” Logan commended, pushing the answer sheets under the nearest book. “Should we tackle geography next or–?”

“Logan, chill.” Jamie poured juice for the both of them, she had sent the maids off to do other housework. She knew how imposing the extravagance of her home could be and while Logan was too timid to admit it, Jamie could read how having servants cater to every little need threw off her friend. That was how they found their current arrangement – working in the dining room without anyone to disturb them – to be amiable on both ends, Logan got to tutor Jamie and Jamie got to spend quality time with Logan.

Setting her own work aside, Logan took the glass and drank.

“You know there’s that new store that opened at the mall the other week,” Jamie said, twirling her fork around. “We should check it out after we finish with this.”

“This isn’t going to be another ambush makeover right?” Logan asked warily, eyeing what may or not be split-ends on the fringes of her dark hair.

The innocent face Jamie put up fooled nobody. “Nope,” she pursed her lips in a smile. “Just you, me, and a platinum credit card.”

* * *

Unsurprisingly, Logan found herself in the middle of the posh glimmer of a Cicada outlet – Jamie’s favorite hair and body care brand. From her spot beside the perfume racks, Logan could just see the bookstore outside seemingly calling her name.

“Logan, try this.” Jamie popped up in front of her, holding up a navy blue tube.

Instinctively, Logan backed away, suspicious gaze set intently on the chapstick Jamie had uncapped and was planning to put on her. “What’s that?”

“It’s part of Cicada’s new line that I saw on the ‘net so I asked around and – just try it,” Jamie smiled encouragingly. “I knew from the second I saw it that it’s totally for you.”

Unable to resist Jamie’s persistence, Logan took the chapstick tube and read it over. She blushed. “Um...  _Talk Nerdy To Me_? Really? That’s the best they can do?”

Jamie bit down on her lower lip, eyes alight with glee. “It’s perfect right?”

Logan had to physically restrain herself. Every time Jamie looked at her like that, Logan’s heart did the strangest things – like stopping and then kickstarting with inhuman speed; or bursting like a firework, spreading heat that would color her face a bright red. This time it decided to lodge itself in her throat, preventing even the smallest of hums to escape.

“Not that I don’t mind you borrowing my chapstick every now and then but” Jamie took Logan’s hand, their matching friendship bracelets linking together. “I figured the Wild Berries flavor would be more of your thing.”

Staring at the tube clasped between two fingers to avoid looking Jamie in the eye, Logan subtly smelled the lip balm. It seemed okay so Logan agreed to buy the item.

* * *

“So what’s the plan this weekend?” Kendra asked as the four of them laid down on the field after practice.

“Nothing much, really,” Logan replied, spreading her arms out, taking care not to accidentally hit Jamie who was beside her.

“Anyone in for some go-karting?” Carla suggested. “It’s been a while since I kicked your butts at it.”

“Tempting, but Nathan from the swim team invited me to this party he’s hosting on Saturday,” Jamie nonchalantly informed them.

“He’s still trying to win you over?” Kendra lifted herself on an elbow to look over at the brunette.

“Poor guy can’t get a hint,” Jamie agreed.

“But you’re still going?” Logan turned her head to look at Jamie.

“I don’t know,” Jamie admitted, twirling one long curl around her fingers. “I mean, parties are fun but when the guys are practically shoving themselves at me, it kind of detracts from the fun factor.”

“I don’t get it.” Carla’s expression spoke of confusion. “You were always on dates before, even when your mom told you you weren’t allowed to date yet. But now all these guys keep asking you out and you’re just turning them down. Don’t you wanna get yourself a boyfriend, Jamie?”

“Please.” Rolling onto her stomach, Jamie caught Logan’s eyes and grinned. “I know who I want and I happen to like taking things slow.”

“No, you don’t.” Kendra quirked a brow at her friend. “Logan’s the slow one. You’re all fun times and fast-paced glamour and – wait.”

From her spot beside Jamie, Logan could see the unmistakable blush that colored the flawless skin a charming pink. It was difficult to breathe given the hairpin turn their conversation was leaning into.

Intrigued, Carla sat up and stared between Kendra and Jamie. “What’s the ‘wait’ for?”

Kendra’s eyes were on Logan who had taken to absently pulling out grass tufts from the ground. “Logan, what’s the flavor of the lip balm you’re using again?”

Blinking, Logan self-consciously presses her lips together. “Wild Berries?”

“And how long have you been using it?”

“I don't know... Two months, three, maybe three and a half,” Logan puffed out her cheeks, trying her earnest not to let show how fast her heartbeats were at the moment.

Green eyes widened and Kendra’s mouth dropped open.

“What? What’s the gasping and weird questions for?” Carla frowned.

Logan raised a hand. “I’d really like to know that too, if you don’t mind.”

“Kendra Donelle Knight, I will personally send you to your grave if you say another word.” Jamie glared at the blond who instantly mimed zipping up her mouth. “It’s nothing,” she added to Logan and Carla’s questioning stares.

“Is it really?” Logan asked. “Because Kendra’s evil face only comes out when she’s making up another one of her plans that usually involve some kind of trauma for the people involved and I’d  _really_  like to avoid that.”

Carla’s wide eyes turned to find Kendra’s vain attempt to look non-threatening. “What do you know?” she narrowed her gaze at her friend.

Kendra repeated the mouth-zipping motion but there was a definite scheming vibe coming from her.

“We’re not supposed to keep secrets from each other!” Carla insisted, looking from Kendra to Jamie. “So spill.”

“Carla’s right, Jamie,” Kendra said, pushing herself up to a sitting position. “You wouldn’t want to break our No Secrets Code, would you?”

“It’s not a secret if I plan to tell soon enough,” Jamie protested, sitting up as well which left Logan to follow suit so that the four of them were now seated in a circle facing each other.

“Soon, really?” Kendra smirked. “Hey, Logan, how long have you been tutoring Jamie in school work?”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Logan wondered aloud, actively pushing back the thoughts that were trying to take over her brain. If she let those thoughts take over, Logan was sure she would be jumping to conclusions and that wouldn’t be very scientific of her.

Jamie’s face turned angry then. “Hey, I never told anyone about Johnny McGraw so don’t–”

“Hey!” Kendra protested, face turning pink to match Jamie’s.

“Don’t ruin this for me, okay?” Jamie finished, flashing a quick look in Logan’s direction. “Their friendship means a lot to me.”

Logan tried her very best not to combust on the spot, losing the mental argument against herself at those words. Carla looked like a kicked puppy, confused as to what had brought upon this fight.

“...Okay,” Kendra finally conceded.

“I don’t understand what happened,” Carla stated, pulling off her helmet and setting it on her lap.

“I do,” Logan said quietly. It was a great contrast to the adrenaline rush resounding in her ears.

Jamie nibbled on her bottom lip, setting pained eyes on Logan. “You do?”

“I think I do.” Hesitantly, Logan reached for Jamie’s hand. The spark that she’d been used to in the past came a hundred times stronger, sending a shiver down her spine, but that only made Jamie hold on tighter.

“Is this okay?” Jamie asked and Logan has never heard her sound so nervous.

Nodding, Logan ran her thumb over the back of Jamie’s hand. “Definitely, okay.” Then someone else picked up her free hand and Logan found Carla holding on to her.

“Are we all holding hands? I like holding hands.” Carla beamed, seemingly relieved that the tension over them had dissipated.

“Oh me, too.” Kendra took Carla and Jamie’s hand in each of her own. “Holding hands is nice.”

For a moment they stared at each other. Then came a burst of giggles, all of them glad to have escaped another pitfall in their friendship.

“So, go-karting?” Carla asked again. “We can schedule it in the afternoon so Logie and Jamie would be finished with their study date by then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: Kendall and Logan are both unisex names but I think Kendra sounds better for girl!Kendall so there.. I chose Jamila for girl!James because it means "beautiful" and it's a good excuse for having Jamie as a nickname.
> 
> This chapter was inspired by the Studio Killer's song _Jenny_ , have a listen to it if you have the time :)


	16. Superheroes

“Ow. Ow, wait – stop!”

He puts up a hand to hide his face, stumbling back. James’ head is pounding and his vision blurs out everything. He collapses, tripping over props, blinded by the strong lights. Worried noises garble around him and he feels hands pulling him up but he can’t feel his legs. For the second time, James hits the floor and a pained groan escapes him. There’s a ringing in his ears that’s akin to having a metal pan banged over his head. He remembers curling into a ball to block out the pain and then it all stops.

Black out.

* * *

James regains consciousness in a hospital room. His talent manager is there and so is a young man with a stethoscope around his neck. They’re talking in hushed voices by the foot of his bed. James can hear bits and pieces of their conversation but mostly he’s just watching this unknown guy – he looks a bit young to be a doctor and he has the cutest dimples, too.

Then his mother enters the room and that’s when James knows things are serious.

“James, how are you feeling?” she asks, worry laced in every word. She drops her briefcase onto a seat, moving to stand beside James’ bed.

The question draws everyone’s attention to James. “Hi, Mom...” he manages to reply from his mother’s tight embrace.  “I think I’m better now.” The lines of worry on Brooke Diamond’s face are considerably diminished when she pulls away.

Stethoscope guy introduces himself as Dr. Mitchell and he shows them the results of a preliminary check-up done on James when he was delivered to the E.R. “The tests revealed that nothing’s wrong with him,” he points to a chart showing James’ vitals to be normal. “It was like he’s just sleeping.” He looks at James, wearing a confused expression. “Has this ever happened before?”

“No, never,” James replies, wondering how exactly could the tests show him as normal when he felt like he was dying at the time.

“Couldn’t it have just been an exaggerated panic attack?” His talent scout eyes him suspiciously.

James crosses his arms defensively. “You know I wouldn’t do that.”

“Then a hereditary disease, maybe?” Dr. Mitchell turns to Mrs. Diamond for answers.

“There is nothing of the sort to speak about.” Brooke’s face remained impeccable but James can see the fear hidden behind her mascara-lined eyes.

“Oh. Then maybe Mr. Diamond should stay for a few more tests just to be sure it’s nothing serious,” Dr. Mitchell suggested.

“But we haven’t finished the photoshoot–”

“Delilah,” Brooke interrupts with a pointed stare. “I think my son’s health should come first before anything.”

“Right. Of course.”

James meets Dr. Mitchell’s eyes and his heart gives a particularly powerful  _badum_.

* * *

Hardly a week passes by before James finally learns the truth. The reason why his mother is always busy, his absent father, their (apparently) prestigious lineage, the reason Brooke gave in too easily to his request of moving to California when he was sixteen – everything.

Brooke can barely hold back her tears, she never wanted her son to become anything like them but the signs are all there.

They're supers, it's in their blood, and with their power comes a heavy responsibility.

For his part, James laments having to set aside his modeling career for the greater good.

* * *

His first attempt to fight crime lands him back in the hospital. Apparently, it isn’t enough that he follows a strict gym routine. James cradles his arm, wincing at every other step.

The hospital doors automatically slide open and James’ feet falter when he finds Dr. Mitchell on the other side.

“Hey, doc,” James blurts out.

Brown eyes jump from his arm to the gash on his jaw, then down to the scrapes on his jeans. “What happened to you?”

“Oh, you know, pickpockets.”

* * *

Brooke introduces James to the Garcias, a family of supers based in Florida, and he instantly clicks with their son, Carlos. From there on out, James begins to get a grip of this new life he’s going to be living.

Carlos’ secret identity is Meteor Man and he proves to be a great tutor. He helps James learn to control his powers in a hidden training facility under the Diamonds’ cosmetic company. It’s rigorous but James thinks at least it helps keep him fit.

About a month in, Carlos takes James with him on patrol. They sail through the night sky, keeping a lookout for criminal activity. By then, James has his own uniform – black spandex and a bandana that covers the top half of his face with holes cut out for the eyes plus a purple paisley patterned cape. Carlos’ get-up is a more eye-catching red and yellow bodysuit.

A shout catches their attention and it leads them to a narrow side street where two figures are circling each other. The taller one makes a grab but the shorter one ducks and runs away leading the former to give chase.

Floating high above the pair, James saw the two men hurtling around and considering that the buildings surrounding them are nightclubs, he’s pretty sure they’re just drunk. He’s telling Carlos that there are other, more relevant crimes to bust when –

“Hey! Get off of me!”

Wait a fucking second. James swoops lower just in time to see the smaller guy get pinned to the wall, hands over his head and a forceful body shoving against him. His blood runs cold as he recognizes the victim.

Dr. Mitchell begins to struggle violently, forcing his face to the side and grimacing when wet lips latch on his neck. “P-Phil, stop it! Don’t–” A hand grabs his jaw, directing him forward, and he just screams. “Somebody help!”

Diving in without second thought, James pulls off the assaulter, grabbing him by the collar and throwing him down the alley. He hears a satisfying thud followed by a wounded cry. Landing on his feet, he checks on Dr. Mitchell.

The doctor is staring at him, disheveled and wheezing. His surprised expression devolves into fear when Phil rises from the asphalt.

“The hell, man?” Phil spits out blood, eyes trained on James.

“He told you to stop,” James stated, masking his voice as best as he could. “Go away and I won’t have to hurt you.”

A drunken laugh spills, echoing in the dark street. Phil staggers forward, a nasty smirk pulling at his lips. “Mind your own business, bucko,” he leers. “I’m here to fuck bitches and you can’t do–”

James’ knee connects with Phil’s gut. It should scare him how quickly his anger flares up but his body’s moving on it’s own and his mind can’t quite catch up. He pulls Phil upright, punching with enough force to hear his jaw crack. Phil wobbles, tilting backwards, and James assists him with a roundhouse kick to the chest. His eyes roll up to the back of his head and then he stops moving.

“I-Is he dead?” Dr. Mitchell’s voice rings in the sudden silence.

James looks over. “Probably not.”

“Oh my god what did you do?” Carlos lands beside him, staring at the unmoving body at his feet.

“I protected the citizen,” James answers, feeling completely vindicated.

“Dude, no!” Carlos wails at him. “Brute force isn’t – What happened to – Oh damn.” His eyes start glowing yellow and his frown widens.

“What?” James demands.

“You cracked three of his ribs!”

James is stunned.

Carlos turns to Dr. Mitchell. “That’s not how we normally do things. He’s kind of new to the job.” He jerks a thumb towards James. “Sorry about your... friend.”

“He’s not a friend,” Dr. Mitchell hastens to correct. “Not anymore, at least.”

Hearing those words has James walking over to the doctor. “Are you gonna be alright?”

“I will.” He nods. “Thank you.”

“We should get this guy to a hospital,” Carlos says.

Dr. Mitchell pulls out his phone. “Let me take care of that. You guys should leave before anyone sees you.”

Carlos stares at him. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“You’re a life saver,” Carlos beams. He turns to James and nods, blasting off to the sky.

James gives one last look at Dr. Mitchell, finding the man staring back at him. “Take care of yourself,” he tells him before he flies away.

* * *

The next day, James pops in at the hospital for a check-up, feigning headaches and some other symptoms he could recall from the last time he was there. He’s a bit put off when the nurse refers him to a different doctor but he crosses paths with Dr. Mitchell on the way. It’s a brief encounter but it’s enough for James’ conscience.

* * *

This time it’s a stickup gone wrong.

James and Carlos are heading out to meet up with supers from another state when a horrific explosion stops them in their tracks. It’s from a building a few blocks down.

They arrive in uniform just as fire breaks out the fourth story window. It’s an office building but surprisingly there’s nobody coming out. Civilians are beginning to converge around the base, screaming for firefighters and police and they distinctly hear a shout of “Call the Navy!” And then someone spots them.

“Look! Supers are here!”

Carlos pauses to give a reassuring wave to the crowd, then he looks at James. Fire licks out of shattered windows and they charge in.

All of the upper floors are empty and they find the real problem on the ground level - five masked men are holding real estate agents at gun point. The fire alarm is ringing impossibly loud and the hostages’ crying only adds to the cacophony.

The situation prompts for rapid action, so while Carlos takes care of the bad guys, James frees the hostages. Fire spreads down the lobby’s grand staircase as Carlos uppercuts the last villain. Rounding up the five, Carlos ties a length of rope from his utility belt around them. James, on the other hand, finds a woman hidden behind a desk with a twisted ankle. He carries her out just as the firefighters barge in.

Outside, a collection of police cars, fire trucks, and ambulances have closed off the site. There are one or two helicopters hovering above the scene carrying what James could only assume as media reporters. While Carlos surrenders the robbers to the police, James is consoling the woman he’s carrying bridal style.

“It’s going to be all right, ma’am,” James says to her, heading for the ambulances. From the moans of pain around him, James’ enhanced hearing picks out a very familiar voice.

“Have you seen her? Yes, Joanna. Where is she? Is she safe?”

He looks around and sure enough Dr. Mitchell is there, draping a shock blanket over a balding man. The doctor straightens up, brows creased with worry and then he spots James. Both of them could feel time stop for a split-second and then Dr. Mitchell’s gaze drops to the woman in James’ arms.

“Mom!” He runs over in a heartbeat, taking the woman’s hands and kissing her forehead. Joanna squeezes Dr. Mitchell’s hand tight, shedding more tears at hearing the distress in his tone. “When the E.R. received the call, I got so worried–”

“I’m alright Logan,” Joanna hushes her son. “They saved me.” She looks up at James with gratitude in her watery smile.

For some reason, James’ heartbeats turn into thunderclaps when the doctor’s eyes look into his. The name Logan is chanted inside his head like a mantra. “She sprained her ankle,” his mouth says to fill the silence.

“Oh, um, let’s – here.” Logan leads the way to a less crowded ambulance where James’ sets Joanna down. As the nurses attend to the swelling around her ankle, Logan turns to James, offering a smile. “Thanks for saving my mom.”

James just nods. It’s been weeks since he has last seen Logan; he feels relieved at finding the doctor safe and sound.

“I never got to thank you properly for saving me last time,” Logan states with a timid smile. “And now you’ve just saved my mom and... wow.” He rocks back on his heels, cheeks puffing up before he let the air out. Shaking off his nerves, Logan extends a hand. “I’m Logan Mitchell, by the way.”

James takes the proffered hand. “I–”

“We have to go.” Carlos pops up beside him. He looks at James, then at Logan, and finally at their hands. “Oh.”

Logan flushes and tries to pull his hand back but James won’t let him. “I-I should get back to work...” His eyes stray over to the ambulances behind him.

“I’m Bandana Man,” James says, it isn’t anything official – both Brooke and Carlos still want him to think of a better identity – but he wants to keep Logan with him just a little longer.

Eyes dart over to James’ cape and Logan’s smile returns, his hand relaxing in James’ hold. “Bandana Man. Alright... Thank you for” his adam’s apple bobs and James tries so hard not to get distracted by it. “for being you, I guess.” Logan turns to Carlos, “Meteor Man, right?”

Carlos puffs out his chest. “Always nice to meet a fan.”

Logan chuckles. “Yes, well, this city is safer with the both of you around so, thank you.”

* * *

The hardest part is never having the right reason to approach Logan as himself and as his superhero identity. James hates having to watch from afar but he’s also afraid of ruining things if he comes too close.

Being on solo patrol is James’ favorite because he has an excuse to watch over Logan a little more. It’s a bit unfair to the general population, yes, but James is still human despite the super side to him. He lands on top of an apartment building, watching as Logan exits his car. For the millionth time, James tells himself that this isn’t stalking, to consider it more like being a protective guard.

Logan is reaching back in for his coat and bag when James sees a figure wearing all-black fast walk down the lane. A glint of metal reflects from his hand when he passes by a lamppost and pulls down his bonnet – the implication of it gets James to act.

The sound of footsteps brings Logan’s attention to his right. He stumbles back in alarm, a scream just about to break from his throat when a flash of black and purple comes between him and his would-be attacker.

It doesn’t even take a second for James to disarm the man and knock him out with a well-placed chop to the nape. With the guy crumpled on the street, unconscious, James whips around to find Logan close enough to touch him. He freezes, mouth open to say something but nothing comes out and they just stare at each other.

Logan is the first to recover. “That was...”

“I was patrolling the skies and couldn’t help noticing...” James trails off.

“Right.” The raised brow on Logan tells of how much he doesn’t buy James’ excuse.

Knowing he’s busted, James lets out a wry chuckle.

“We have got to stop meeting like this.” Logan fixes the coat draped over his arm.

“Should I take my leave?” James asks.

“No,” Logan answers a little too quickly. “I mean, don’t you heroes ever take a coffee break?”

James cocks his head to one side. “On occasion.”

“My apartment is right there,” Logan ventures. “If you don’t mind instant coffee, I could make you a cup... or two.”

 _Yes!_  James’ mind is screaming but at the same time fear is wiggling its fingers into his spine. He wants this so much, to finally have a proper talk with Logan and to get to know him and to discover all their differences and similarities. But, James reminds himself, he’s in uniform. And even now he’s still not ready to let anyone discover his true identity; though these constant encounters with Logan certainly push at his limits. It’s with great self-control that James declines the offer, gesturing at the criminal still out cold by his feet.

The next day, James schedules for a check-up at the hospital. He’s excited because this time he plans to get a proper conversation with Logan. Maybe ask him out for a snack after their consultation. James is dressed to impress, practically bouncing in his seat as he waits for his turn. His smile outshines the stars the second he hears the door open.

A tall blond man exits, plaid shirt hanging onto his lanky frame. He’s all-smiles as he backtracks out of the office. “Thanks, Logie, you’re the best,” he grins, apparently pulling someone out.

Dr. Mitchell steps up to the doorframe, the blond’s hand on his shoulder. “Anytime.” He’s pulled into a hug and James has never seen such a happy expression on his face. When they part, Logan turns to his next patient, a look of utter surprise rising to his face. “Mr. Diamond. It’s... been a while.”

And yeah, James definitely feels a bit sick now.

* * *

He resorts to staying away from Logan. It’s pathetic but it’s the best he can think of.

James starts doing small modeling jobs again. It fills in the time he used to spend watching over Logan and it keeps his mind busy from thinking about the doctor.

One night, he comes home to a voicemail from Logan. James stares at the name for minutes, debating whether he should listen to it or not. Sighing, James presses play as he strips out of his superhero getup.

“Mr. Diamond, hi, this is Dr. Logan Mitchell... Uh, god, this is going to sound awkward, erm... James – Can I call you James?” There’s an audible exhale, like maybe Logan was gathering courage to continue. “I don’t usually, you know, call up patients like this but I got concerned...” 

James puts on a comfy pair of sweatpants, sitting down on the edge of his bed right beside the house phone. It's a slow night, he'd been planning to head to sleep the second he got home but now his senses are on full alert.

“When you came back complaining about the same symptoms I worried that there’s something more going on. It’s not even about, well, it's  _more_  than just being your doctor.”

There’s a long pause after that statement where James starts praying that the message would end. Logan’s words are making him hope again, making him think that there’s actually something more than chance and misread signals going on.

“Let’s meet up. Is Saturday evening okay for you? My numbers in the prescription papers but if you don’t have them, it’s–”

James hits the stop button.

Of course he has the number saved. It’s been sitting in his phone for months, James has spent hours just staring at it wishing for the balls to press call. And now Logan did call, asking to meet up with him.

His thumb touches the green icon, heart hammering as he waits for the other end to pick up.

The ringing cuts off. “Yes, hello, Dr. Mitchell here.”

“Hey, doc.” James smiles pathetically.

* * *

_Shit, he’s late_.

James fumes internally, poised to strike, staring down the barrel of a missile gun. God damn supervillains don’t know how to time their evil schemes. The minute movement of a finger on the trigger has James jumping to the side, the beam hits a column and the whole structure trembles. Sliding across the marble floor, James thrust out both hands at the villain. Invisible force fields throw the bearded mastermind to the other side of the room.

Normally, James would’ve cringed at the human-shaped crack left on the wall when his opponent slides down from it but he figures the place is a bank, anyway, the management can fix that easy.

“You’re not gonna get rid of me that easily, Bandana Man,” the villain taunts, getting back to his feet. Around him, his henchmen go into attack formation, stun guns all pointed at James.

Gritting his teeth, James revises his tactics. He sends a silent prayer that Logan wouldn’t move an inch from the restaurant they were supposed to be meeting at. With a near-brutal drive, James goes for the faceless minions.

Kicks and punches and verbal insults are exchanged in addition to the gunfire. While James is busy wiping out the henchmen, the big bad turns his missile gun to the vault. He blasts the metal door open, safety deposit boxes destroyed, and the valuables thrown all over the place. Cackling his trademarked evil laugh, he starts shoving everything he could get his hands on into a bag.

James throws the last pair of the villain’s sidekicks out the front door where the red and blue blinkers of police cars illuminate the street. He finds his enemy still hunched over the antiques and jewelry, destructive weapon lying forgotten a couple of feet away. Blood boiling, James picks up the wide-set man and drops him face first onto the metal floor. “I can’t believe you!” he kicks the man over, “Do you know how late I am to the most important date of my life because of this stint you pulled?”

Blood gushes out from the man’s lips, soaking his dark scraggly beard. Behind his mask, dark blue eyes narrow mockingly at James.

Not bothering to wait for a response, James proceeds to thrash the evil-doer. Minutes later, he trudges out of the bank to cheerful applause from the gathered civilians. The cops take the beaten up villain from James, thanking him profusely but James’ attention is elsewhere.

The fighting has gotten him all sweaty and totally not presentable for what he sees as a date. He’s about to take off when a face in the crowd catches his attention. No way, he thinks but there is no doubt about it; just the fact that the barest glimpse of it gets him to stop is enough proof.

Squished in with the crowd behind the police barricade is Logan.

Their eyes meet and James doesn’t know what to do. Then panic seeps into Logan’s face, his focus moving to something just over James’ shoulder. Sensing the danger, James turns about at the same time that Logan and a few other voices tell him to “Look out!”

One of the henchmen James thinks he has disposed of earlier stands at the top of the steps, the forgotten missile gun in hand.

 James mentally smacks himself. “Hey, buddy,” he smiles at the man, not even bothering to hide how done he is with the whole skit. “Better put that down before you hurt someone.”

“Revenge!” The guy screams through the silvery face cover as he points the gun at the citizens and pulls the trigger.

“Everybody down!” James shouts.

Everything goes into slow motion: the stampeding crowd running away, the missile being fired, James shooting forward. He throws the projectile off target with a force field, sending it upwards where it explodes, lighting up the neighborhood a fiery orange. Grabbing the gun from the henchman’s hands, James uses it to smack his head. The body flies towards a police car, making a dent on the roof. Glaring at the infernal device, James encases the stupid missile gun in a force field and crushes it until it’s completely unrecognizable. He descends the stairs, throwing the hunk of metal behind him. Staring out at what’s left of the crowd, James’ brows furrow at finding a number of bodies laying on the street. Some were being tended to by the police officers and he hears one of them radio for an ambulance.

As James hurries to the barricade, the police chief stops him. “You done good,” he says, clapping James on the shoulder. “Don’t worry anymore about them” he nods at the people who are slowly getting back on their feet. “We’ll handle it from here.”

“Okay,” James replies absently, continuing forward and scanning the crowd. He jumps over the hood of a police car to get to the other side. James finds Logan almost immediately; the doctor is on his knees beside a teenage girl.

Logan pulls out a handkerchief from his pocket, wrapping it around the girl’s arm to cover up an injury. He’s instructing her on how to clean it efficiently when James steps up to them.

The girl bites down a squeal before spilling out her admiration. James gives her a smile and advises her to go home. She leaves, but not before getting Logan to snap a photo of her with the superhero.

Clearing his throat, James looks down at Logan, noticing the slight graze on his cheek and getting his eyes stuck on it. “You’re hurt.” He reaches out to touch the injury but backs off at the last second, remembering where they are.

“It’s nothing.” Logan quirks a grin. “You’re getting better at this superhero business.”

“Thanks.” James looks down at the rest of him – white button down, blue cardigan, tan pants, and sneakers.  James has never seen Logan dressed so thoughtfully. He wets his lips. “Can you spare a few minutes? With me?”

Logan studies him and James feels the sweat running underneath his bandana. He looks James in the eye as he replies, “I’m actually on my way to meet up with someone and I’m afraid I’m already late.”

James bites down on his tongue. “They probably won’t mind.”

“Oh, I think he will,” Logan tells him, looking so sure. He crosses his arms loosely, hands holding on to his elbows.

Taking a deep breath, James tries not to let his nerves show. “I’ll fly you right to him after we’ve talked. Let him be angry at me.”

“Is that a promise?” Logan leans back slightly, eyes never leaving James.

“I promise.”

* * *

_He knows_. The realization leaves James feeling uncomfortable in his own skin and he skids to a stop in midair, arms unnecessarily tight around Logan. They land at the center of a deserted park, swing sets and slides unoccupied at this time of the night. Under the orange glow of a nearby lamppost, James could see the certainty and determination in those dark eyes.

“Thank you for saving me... again.” There’s some attempt at humor but James is more attuned to the breathlessness of it. Sure, it may be due to the fact that they both just escaped death but the way the arms around his shoulders refuse to budge definitely means something. “It was smart of you to let the missile fly up and avoid casualties.”

“It’s what I do,” James replies, lifting one hand from Logan’s waist to gently cradle his cheek, thumb carefully brushing over the scraped skin. “Sorry about this, I really can’t explain why I left that gun lying around–”

“You don’t have to explain yourself.” A smile brightens the Logan’s expression and damn if James doesn’t want to feel that smile against his lips. “I should probably be the one to say sorry for getting in the middle of trouble so often. I promise I’m not doing it on purpose.”

“Some people just naturally attract trouble,” James shared, hand dropping back to rest on the slim waist just shy of pressing against his own. The thump of heartbeats against his chest even out, brown eyes ducking low as a red tinge creeps over pasty skin.

A pink tip teases between those lips he’d thought about more times than he’d care to admit. “Okay, but...” The faintest tremble runs through the arms around him, fingers pressing against his nape. “At this point, I'm pretty sure trouble isn’t the only thing attracted to me...”

 _Fuck_. The only sane part left of James’ brain is screaming out  _Mayday! Mayday!_  His body, however, isn’t responding; not properly, at least. It’s responding to the heat building up between the two of them, urging him closer, to finally make a god damned move. James looks down at the same time that Logan tilts his face up.  _Too close! Too close!_  His traitorous tongue, however, pays no heed to that warning. Whispering, his words fill in the sparse space between them. “I’m just... afraid... that this will put you into even more danger.”

“It’s a risk I’m willing to take.” Eyes at half-mast, Logan’s determined gaze is like gravity pulling James closer.

Sighing, James rests their foreheads together. “Do you know how hard I’ve tried not to pull you into this mess, doc?” And there it is, all pretenses gone, James finally makes himself to face the inevitable.

“I know,” Logan replies, lips touching James’ for a brief second. The feather-light touch sends James’ nerves on fire, burning away all rationality.

Pulling Logan near, James gives in to his baser instincts.

It’s so much better than James has ever imagined. He can barely breathe with the way Logan fits so perfectly against him, snug and comfortable like he’d always belonged there. A hand moves to the back of his head, pushing him deeper at the same time that Logan’s tongue pulls him in. He can’t blame this on adrenaline rush, not when his blood is headed towards and entirely different direction than what’s practical.

Logan has his eyes shut, his whole body feeling like a live wire. He hasn’t been this desperate since the cusp of his teenage years and those are well behind him now. Still, he can’t seem to stop, can’t find the mind to, can’t see the need to. But there  _is_  one thing he manages to remember – “James... James, wait...”

Pulling back, James tries not to sound petulant. “What is it?”

“Can you take this off?” Logan fingers the knot of the bandana at the back of James' head. “I need to see you.”

“You do it,” James whispers, closing his eyes and nuzzling his nose against Logan’s. He feels the fabric slip off of him, undone. When he opens his eyes, Logan’s eyes are right in front of him – lit by starlight and in them he can see the reflections of his own face.

Logan drags his teeth over his bottom lip, moist and inviting, probably without meaning to. He holds the bandana in a tight fist, hand resting back against James’ nape. “Hello.”

“You already knew it was me, why take off the mask?” James asks.

A private laugh passes through Logan’s lips as he aligns their mouths, stopping just a hair’s breadth away from kissing. “To reconcile fantasy with reality.” James initiates a kiss and he smiles against it, pulling back to add, “And it’s a precaution.”

“From what?” James raises a brow, confusion growing when Logan draws him lower to leave a whisper in his ear.

“Just imagine... Bandana Man is a pretty long name to scream in bed.”


	17. Gang

For the life of him, James couldn’t remember how he got here; all he knew was that he needed to get away fast. He should’ve listened to Katie, a talent scout finding him through the internet sounded too good to be true and just as suspicious. He shouldn’t have brushed off Kendall when the guy was only trying to get some sense into him like a good friend should. The sun was on its way down the horizon and James was still hopelessly lost in the maze of empty roads and crumbling structures. It would’ve made for a good enough ghost town if not for the presence of informal settlers, though James didn’t exactly trust those people.

He turned right at the end of the street, trying to find a landmark or at the very least a legible sign to point him back to civilization. James’ mind was in such a panic that he walked right into a rock hard chest. Grunts of outrage preceded the shove that led to James’ ass meeting the concrete.

“The fuck you think you’re doing here, huh?”

James felt his stomach drop at the death glare sent his way. A trio of bikers looking to be in their mid-40s was looming over him, bulging muscles straining in their leather jackets. The last thing James needed was to get into trouble so he quickly muttered “S-Sorry.” He turned to leave but a hand with cracked nails latched onto his shoulder, forcing him around. Their smirks revealed yellowing teeth and James gulped, self-preservation instincts itching at his feet.

“You look a bit lost,” what James could guess as the leader nodded at him. “We can help you out.”

“No need to bother, gentlemen.” James pushed the man’s hand off none too gently. “I’d best be going.” He crossed the road and continued in a more agitated pace but his pursuers were relentless.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow down there, pretty boy,” leader-guy stepped in front of James. “These are dangerous territories, it’d be easier to let us help you.” His eyes drop to James’ messenger bag, its expensive quality easily perceived.

Fingers gripping the strap of his bag tighter, James gritted out, “I said no. Now leave me alone.” His voice sounded a hell lot braver than he was feeling, a small victory that James couldn’t celebrate as all false kindliness dropped from the bikers’ faces. He managed to avoid the sudden grab for his belongings and quickly made a run for it. Sprinting in the direction where he came from, James heard the men rushing off with a cry of “Get to the bikes!”

Cursing inwardly, James turned towards a small side street where vehicles couldn’t follow him. He couldn’t possibly outrun three motorbikes and their greedy riders but he also couldn’t afford to get caught. Sure, they might want nothing more than just rob him of all valuables but if those heavy hands take a shot at his face – well, James wasn’t going to risk that. So he took another left turn, then a right, forcing his legs to go faster whenever the faintest rumble of an engine reached his ears.

There’s a warehouse coming up ahead, plain tan walls and an unassuming front greeting him; one of the side doors was left wide open almost like an invitation. James thanked his lucky stars and headed in, locking the door behind him. He figured he’d have to hide out here for –  _Oh crap_.

There was something like a convention of bikers in there. James’ feet refused to budge as a dozen pairs of eyes pin him in place; bikers in red and black jackets standing beside their equally scary-looking motorbikes. Obviously, he’d just barged in on a super secret meeting or something and now they’d have to silence him so nobody would ever know about it.

This was so not what James ditched his impossibly cute physics TA for. James would’ve at least wanted to let the guy know their tutoring sessions was the only thing James lived for, academically-speaking. Squeezing his eyes shut, James gave in to the inevitable, biting down on a pathetic whimper when he heard steps moving closer.

“What on earth are you doing here, James?”

In his final moments, James thought how fitting it was to hear the voice of his unrequited love... though there certainly could’ve been better words said.

Fingers snapped in front of his face. “James!”

Hazel eyes opened and James’ throat ran dry. “Mr. Logan... sir...” He blinked a couple more times just to make sure it wasn’t a hallucination, and then he realized what he was looking at. “Um, wow.”

Logan sighed, a worried crease showing up between his brows. He wore a zipped up leather jacket with red piping, dark pants and boots, a black helmet tucked under his right arm. “What are you doing here?”

“I...” James has to pinch his own leg just so he could stop staring at his cute-nerdy-TA-crush-turned-ridiculously-hot-biker-in-leather-crush and, again,  _wow_. “I got lost...”

“Lost?” Logan’s voice was filled with disbelief. “James, this place is three miles out of town. How did you even get here?”

Flicking his gaze over Logan’s shoulder, James was grimly reassured that they were still being watched by the others. He looked back at Logan, a sudden thought getting to him. “What are  _you_  doing here?”

* * *

“It was a prank, geez!”

“Well it’s not a funny one!”

James had never seen Logan look so mad. They didn’t even finish doing twenty questions when Logan finally pieced together the truth. He cut off mid-swear and told James to hold his helmet.

Logan shouted, “CARLOS!” and there was a scuffle among the bikers behind him. One of them tried to run off but the others held him in place until Logan got there. Pulling this Carlos by the arm, Logan dragged him off to the far side away from James.

“How should I know he would get in trouble with those Traps?” Carlos wailed, pulling off his helmet to reveal a worried face.

“See, this is why I don’t want you messing with my phone.”

“But I was curious!”

“About what?”

“Last time I saw you smiling all goofy at it was when you got back together with Camille. But then you two broke up forever and I wondered what’s the reason now and – your Home page, really?” Carlos looked over to where James was standing and James shot him a mistrusting look. “You set your Home page to his–”

At this point Logan grabbed Carlos shoulder and physically turned him away from James, then he put an arm around Carlos and they started whispering. The damage was done, though, and James found himself as the target of many curious stares, some of them accompanied by nods, from the still intimidating biker group.

“But Logan!” Carlos protested, only for Logan to grip his shoulder tighter. “That is so unfair!”

“Unfair,” Logan emphasized. “Is dragging James into this mess. Now take some responsibility.” He slapped Carlos on the back and they walked back towards James.

“You’re taller than I expected,” Carlos looked up at James, putting on a smile which crumpled quickly when Logan elbowed him. “Ow.”

“James this is Carlos Garcia, everything is his fault,” Logan introduced.

Unable to cross his arms because of the helmet he was holding, James settled for frowning at the man.

“Carlos, this is James Diamond, he’s one of my students.” Logan gives a pointed look at Carlos whose expression was swept with brief shock.

“Oh.” Carlos laughed awkwardly. “Nice to meet you, I guess?”

“I’m sorry I can’t exactly say the same,” James sassed.

Wincing, Carlos scratched the back of his head. “Yeah.”

Clearing his throat, Logan diverted their attention to him. “As much as I’d like to have you sent home immediately, I can’t afford to spare a couple of the guys for that.”

At the mention of ‘the guys’, James glanced at the leather-clad group staring at them. “By ‘the guys’... you mean your biker gang.”

Logan bit down on the corner of his lips for a second, then nodded. “Yeah. James meet The Murder District. Guys, say hello.”

“Hi, James,” came the unified voices of the bikers, most of them were low and muffled from the helmets they were wearing.

“Those three bikers you got in trouble with earlier are from an enemy group,” Logan continued. “They’re called Death Trap and we’ve got a bit of a rivalry going on. We’re about to settle a dispute with them at” Logan checked his watch. “Right about now. Drag race competition.”

 _Like RuPaul’s_? James mind supplied but he thought best not to say it aloud. Instead, he went with, “Isn’t that dangerous?”

Laughter spilled from the bikers and James flushed.

“So I kind of need the guys here,” Logan talked over the dwindling laughter. He then clapped James’ shoulder. “But I promise I’ll get you home immediately after.”

“Unless those Traps decide to be sore losers again and bring out the steel bats,” Carlos rambled, shutting up when Logan glared at him.

Turning to find James looking horrified, Logan tried to assuage the situation. “Don’t worry, Carlos will stick with you through the race.”

“But I don’t trust him,” James countered, subtly stepping closer towards Logan.

“You trust me, right?” Logan’s smile widened when James nodded. “Then, believe me when I say you’d be safer with Carlos around.”

James opened his mouth to protest when a loud banging noise came from the door behind him.

“Hey, Murderers! The race is about to start,” a distinctly feminine voice shouted from the other side.

“We’ll be right out, Lucy,” Logan shouted back before addressing the rest of his group. “Okay, everyone get ready.”

Murmurs of assent came as everyone got onto their bikes, a couple of them opening up the main gateway to reveal Lucy waiting outside.

“Come on, James, let’s get you a helmet.” Logan headed to a storeroom by the back.

“I don’t know how to drive motorbikes,” James said, giving Logan his helmet back in exchange for a white one. “And I only have a driver’s permit.”

“I know, that’s why you’ll be riding with me.” Logan led them back to his motorbike, putting on his helmet on the way.

James hesitated but one look at Logan mounting the bike like a pro and holding out a hand to him got his mind doing a one-eighty. He put on the helmet, surprised to find it clean, and settled in behind his TA. It felt a little embarrassing to put his hands on Logan’s waist but he had an excuse and he wasn’t afraid to exploit it... well, not totally.

“Keep your hands there,” Logan looked over his shoulder at James, who was thankful for the visor hiding the blush on his face.

Up ahead, Lucy revved up her motorbike. “Let’s roll.”

* * *

In spite of his initial misgivings about drag racing, James found himself enjoying the experience. It was especially rewarding to watch Logan trash those Traps who tried to mug him earlier.

They were riding back to town after a quick bite at the gang’s favorite diner. James found hanging with those bikers rather entertaining – they definitely liked being fawned all over and James had plenty of compliments to pass around, mostly towards Logan but the others were cool, too. And now they were kind enough to escort James home.

The streets were a bit busy and their group gathered more than a healthy amount of staring from other drivers as they cruised. Still, there was little to complain about when James had his arms around Logan’s waist and his chest pressed against Logan’s back. It was rounding 8:30 when they finally got to James’ neighborhood. Given that it was on the posh side of town, there was a consensus that it would be less of a hassle for the group to disperse to avoid attracting unwanted attention.

Logan rolled up in front of a large cream-colored house. As the motorcycle came to a stop, James finally realized they were at his place... and that there was a guy on the front steps.

James sat back and pushed up his borrowed helmet’s visor, squinting at his visitor. “Kendall?”

His blond best friend jumped up, narrowed eyes set on the pair on the riders. “Is that you, James?”

Pulling off the helmet, James revealed himself. “What are you doing here?”

“Well you wouldn’t answer my calls,” Kendall crossed his arms, still suspicious. “So what happened? And who’s this?”

“Um...” James shifted away from Logan, panicking and not finding any proper response. Feeling a gloved hand touch his arm, James looked at Logan who jerked his head towards the sidewalk. Understanding the implication, James got off the vehicle.

Nodding, Logan revved up his ride, waving a gloved hand goodbye. He had driven away before James could give back his helmet, leaving James to hug the head gear to his chest.

“Um, hello!” Kendall stepped up to wave his hand in front of James’ face. “Thanks for paying attention to your best friend who’s been worried sick about you since noon.”

“Sorry.” James finally tore his eyes away from the motorbike turning the corner, giving a lopsided grin at Kendall. “You were right, that talent scout was a total hoax.”

“And the guy?” Kendall raised one bushy brow.

“He’s...” James’ cheeks warmed at the memory of Logan’s proximity – the heat and smell of him after that vicious race, the winning smile, the way he never said a word about James’ arms around him. That dinner almost felt like a date, albeit a group one at that. God, he was perfect. “Yeah...”

“James, you’re spacing out again.”

“Oh, sorry.” James snapped back to attention. “It’s just someone I met... They – I mean,  _he_  helped me get back here safe.”

“Is that all?” Kendall smirked.

James puffed out his cheeks. “What?”

“Nothing.” Kendall shrugged. “Just that I should probably tell Mr. Mitchell he’s got competition.”

“Oh, shut up.”


	18. Military/War

All they had were letters.

Yellowing pages, frayed edges, blotched ink, blocky letters.

The first was a conscription notice, delivered a mere three months after James turned eighteen. News of the worsening war situation wasn’t anything new. In fact, their good friend Kendall had signed up for service two weeks ago; they always knew he was the brave one. Having the notices sent to them meant that there was no escape now, it’s mandatory, no longer an option. Carlos stood in front of them at the line, a queue of young men from all walks of life now headed towards a single purpose.

Logan followed Carlos and behind them was James. James' mother was all for hiding him from the horrors abound, not wanting to lose him after she’d already lost his father. And James loves his mother, really he did, but his heart would not be able to bear the thought of abandoning his friends.

Next came the medical papers, all three folders marked with a red stamp of approval. All in all, it took maybe three days for them to complete all the necessary tests. While no one would admit it, they all wished that something could be found to disqualify their application but their hopes were in vain, not to mention shameful.

They were bound to be sent off to training camp the next morning and in an act of desperation, James knocked on the Mitchells’ front door. He was antsy and Mrs. Mitchell was in tears when she welcomed him in; all the mothers were crying these days – James’ own mom had locked herself in her room with a bottle of champagne.

Logan made space in his bed for James, the geography map blanket and pillow cases wrinkled from his failed attempts at sleeping. They lay side by side, recounting all the stories they’ve heard about the war effort, doing absolutely nothing to quell their growing anxiety.

James’ hand was clammy and he tried to pull away when Logan’s fingers slipped in between his own. Hearts raced and faltered. Tears broke free when their bodies finally curled together, connecting in every which way they had not allowed to be realized outside of their sweetest dreams. James kissed Logan’s temple.

* * *

Camp was brutal but there was something to be said about small blessings.

They saw Kendall again, even though their interactions were limited to the hours in the mess hall. Letters from home were delivered weekly and they found strength in the thought of fighting to keep the peace in their families. They were sent into different divisions: James and Carlos came to be under Lt. Wainwright, while Logan found a friend in their schoolmate Jett when the both of them were placed under the supervision of Lt. Devon.

James found every excuse to spend what limited time he had as close to Logan as possible. To make up for the times they were apart, Logan slipped scraps of notepaper to James, carrying the words he couldn’t express out loud. They became James’ greatest treasures, hidden and protected against all harm.

When they were finally deployed, James kept the love notes closest to his heart.

* * *

They were still allowed to write letters out in the combat zone but replies were rare and generally not expected. Those facts didn’t deter James from writing, conducting hopeful conversations in his head, narrating a one-sided romance. More than once, Carlos caught him writing in his journal under the moonlight. The only time Carlos got a confession out of him was when James fell ill and was confined in the infirmary – he begged his friend to deliver the pad to him, giving quite the impression of its importance.

Logan was stationed in a different city, Kendall in a completely different country.

The feeling of James’ lips on his temple kept Logan at peace, memories of his laughter soothing away the abrasive gunshots, ghost touches warding off the cold and lonely nights. One of his brothers-in-arms revealed himself to be an artist and Logan was more than happy to get something of a portrait even if it was drawn from memory.

* * *

The corners of the sketch paper were stained with his blood. Blindly, Logan reached for it only to stop midway as reality registered. Screams came out before he could stop himself.

Nurses hurried over, someone held down his arm and the precise pain of an injection was followed by a flood of drowsy calm. Next time Logan regained consciousness, it was to a friendly face.

Kendall was beside him, looking over the pencil drawing. There was an understanding that passed between them without the need for words. Logan had never been afraid to cry in front of Kendall and he wasn’t going to start then. A strong hand gripped his own, steadying his shaking body as he embraced his loss.

* * *

Carlos’ panicked shouting tied James to consciousness as the earth shattered around them. Their surroundings were blurred with fog and they had lost sight of the others. It was an ambush, they were doomed.

Heart rampaging in his chest, James forced himself to move faster, grabbing at a tree and swinging the both of them behind it as the whir of a falling projectile resounded. Bracing against the impact, James felt a warm gush of blood against his arm.

Up ahead, dark figures moved through the clouds of dust, foreign and imposing.

James saw his breath leave him.

* * *

Logan knew how this would end. There were too many others who needed care, who could still be repaired and put back into play. He was broken and unfixable.

That night, he slept peacefully, dreaming of a place filled with ethereal light.

* * *

“Does he know?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s good, then.”

“It is.”


	19. Idols

It’s called the gay crisis and studies have shown that in every boy band, at least one member goes through it. Logan just didn’t expect it to be him.

Of course, it could just be temporary – a result of being holed up with the guys for four years running and the limited personal space in their tour bus. Lack of girls isn’t the problem; they perform every night in front of thousands of them, meeting and greeting a special dozen or so on a regular basis. Stress can’t be blamed either because while there is a certain pressure to perform up to par, Logan is having so much fun being a popstar that the sweat and tears are more than worth living out the experience.

Logan decides it must be the love songs.

And James.

* * *

It started two days ago but if Logan can afford to be honest with himself, he’d say that it’s been a long time coming. The tipping point happened on a quiet stretch of evening and that should have probably been his first clue. It was too quiet, impossibly calm to be true. The tour bus was parked for the night and Carlos wanted to explore the rest stop a little before hitting the hay. Kendall went with him, more to make sure he wouldn’t get into trouble than to actually sightsee. Kelly and Gustavo were with the band, talking about god knew what.

Logan had a pillow tucked under one arm as he headed to the den where they had set up a TV along with their Xbox. His smile in anticipation of a good science show slid down his face when he found someone else occupying the area. Even more annoying was the show playing on TV.

“We allotted a TV schedule for a reason, James,” Logan started, letting the annoyance in his voice show.

Pushing up his sleeping cap, James pouted at Logan. “I know, I know, but this is my favorite episode!”

Deadpanned, Logan stared at the screen and the animated ponies careening through it. “You’ve seen that episode a hundred times!”

“Actually, it’s only been four times, counting this one,” James beamed, patting the bean bag beside him. “Come on, Logan, I know you love Twilight Sparkle.”

“I do not,” Logan huffed, settling down and telling himself the fight’s not over yet. “Now hand me the remote.”

“But–” A look of betrayal crossed James’ face.

“The remote, James.” Logan narrowed his eyes, looking for a sign of the controller.

“I’m not giving it to you,” James stated petulantly, hiding one hand behind himself.

“You already had your stupid movie yesterday,” Logan muttered, reaching around James when pushing him away didn’t work. “Play fair.”

James shrieked when Logan resorted to tickling tactics, face flushing red. He slid the remote control out of Logan’s reach, using both hands now to maneuver Logan away from it.

Rolling around in their pajamas, Logan’s annoyance dissipated far too quickly for his liking. James’ fingers were pinching his cheeks now, the taller man’s weight pressing him into the carpet. “Just let me watch my show!”

“Hey, that’s my line,” James countered in between giggles, the bright lights from the screen illuminating his features for the past five minutes that he’d neglected to direct his attention at it.

Logan squirmed, pushing at James’ chest which only led the brunet to exert more force bearing down on him. “James – can’t – breathe–” He flailed a little for emphasis and the second James backed a little, Logan pounced and reversed their positions. Grabbing the remote, Logan braced his forearm against James’ chest while raising the other hand high to show off his prize.

“Wait–” James gasped, eyes turning towards the TV just as Logan changed the channel. “Rainbow Dash–”

A monotone took over the preppy voices as images of slugs and bananas filled the screen. “– see the once every three years mating ritual of the California Banana Slug...”

“Aww, Logan!” James put on his most heartbroken face.

Too late did Logan realize that tuning in to shell-less mollusks doing the do was probably not the best alternative to watching a children’s show, especially considering the fact that the scuffle they previously had left them in a compromising position. As the teasing music played, James’ eyes met Logan’s and suddenly the air felt static.

“Please change the channel,” James breathed, face growing pinker with every note but Logan could only stare, fascinated.

He gulped, leaving his fate to the hands of gravity as he bowed his head towards James. He felt weightless, simply floating down until the second their lips touched but it never happened. One second James’ hot breath misted over his lips, then the music was overcome by the whoosh of the bus doors as Carlos and Kendall came back in.

Logan jumped back and James scooted away, both of them wide-eyed and flushed down to the collars of their shirts.

“What are you guys watching?” Carlos bounded into the room, still hyped up with energy despite the late hour.

“My Little Pony,” Logan replied with a quick press of buttons. He didn’t know how to feel right then, but the intrusion of his two other best friends seemed to be a godsend.

* * *

Acoustic sets are a crowd favorite and who were they to deny their loyal fans of that? Tall stools are put on stage and the lights are dimmed to focus on them. They’ve done this a couple of times before and so the arrangement is pretty much set... That is until James leans over to Kendall, whispering something that gets phone cameras flashing from a distance and then Kendall’s strumming a different tune.

Carlos looks past Logan at Kendall, a confused twist to his lips. Logan, meanwhile, is desperately hoping that the stage lights are bright enough to wash out the blush on him.

 _Nothing Even Matters_. Their prom song. Their  _pre pre-engagement song_ , Logan’s mind supplies but he quickly shoots that down.

James nudges Logan, the megawatt smile on him softening when their eyes meet. The honesty in them is nearly overwhelming, melting away the trepidation in him and Logan decides this isn’t something he wants to lose over an  _almost_ kiss. After all, they’ve survived the week following prom night relatively well. This should be a piece of cake.

Humming with the intro and remembering his lines, Logan feels a little more confidence backing up the smile that he sends back. That didn’t explain why their eyes stayed glued to each other throughout the whole song, though.

And if either of them bothered to notice the outside world, they would’ve seen the conniving smirk that’s passing between their two other friends.

* * *

Waking up, Logan has the vague notion that he could stay like this forever. He’s snug under the thick blanket and there’s a comforting weight resting against his head. His back feels miraculously at ease in spite of the sitting position. Remnants of his sleep-time fantasies are evident against the cotton of his sweatpants and a wan smirk stretches his dry lips. Breathing deep, Logan would’ve gone right back to sleep again if not for the sudden realization of who it is beside him.

Logan tenses, eyes wide at their immediate surrounding. The bus is empty as far as he could see but it’s moving which means that at the very least their driver is awake. Feeling hypersensitive of James’ sleeping form beside him, Logan tries to push the other guy away as gently as he could while at the same time backing off. That plan gets foiled all too easily when Logan feels a hand against his waist tightening against his escape.

“James,” Logan whispers, body stock still as he waits for an answer. When nothing comes after five seconds, he tries again; this time the call is accompanied by a slight nudge.

“What?” James’ voice is husky with sleep, the movement of his mouth registering against the top of Logan’s head.

“Can you move?” Logan replies, crossing his arms on his lap.

A groan leaves James, his hand pulling Logan closer. “Go back to sleep, it’s like five in the morning...”

“The sun is up, James,” Logan mutters, seeing flashes of the busy morning streets through a gap between the window’s curtains. “Let me go...”

James yawns, turning a little to nuzzle against unruly black hair. “But I like sleeping with you. You’re comfy.”

“That’s nice,” Logan manages to keep a straight voice despite the blush coloring his face. “But this is kind of...”

“Hard?” James supplies with a chuckle.

Resisting the urge to curl into a ball to avoid the embarrassment, Logan hisses, “It’s not funny, James.”

Miraculously, James leans back, sleepy eyes staring at Logan’s reddened face. “I was joking but” his gaze drops to Logan’s lap. “Well.” He secures his hold just as Logan turns to bolt, pulling the genius against his chest, chuckling. “Hey, come on.”

“Let me go,” Logan whines, struggling to break free from James’ arms around his chest while covering himself. “ _James_.” He’s surprised when James actually lets go at that. So much that he forgets to move. Turning around cautiously, he finds James mute and blushing. Raising a brow, Logan’s curiosity is piqued when James suddenly looks away from him. “What...?”

“Go on,” James says, still not looking at Logan. “You’re in a hurry, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, but...”

“I’m not angry, Logan, just... go.” James shudders, pulling the blanket closer around himself.

He makes a dash for the bathroom before any more nagging thoughts could get to him.

* * *

Rather than take it as a sign to back off, Logan’s mind chooses to replay the event over and over again. He keeps finding little pinpricks of detail that stand out with every recollection. It doesn’t help that James acted completely normal around him, as if the tour bus incidents never happened. Come to think of it, Logan still can’t remember how in the world they got to sleeping on the bus seat in the first place.

“That’s what I’m saying,” Kendall’s voice floats in, followed by two other pairs of footsteps.

“What matters is that she’s single now, right?” James quirks a smile.

“Wrong.” Kendall points a finger at James. “What matters is that they’re not going to put out any more songs.”

“I loved that band,” Carlos sighs, looking off somewhere.

“See, this is why band members shouldn’t date,” James throws out flippantly, overtaking Kendall and walking down the bus aisle only to stop midway. He stares at Logan.

Logan stares back. Over James’ shoulder he sees Kendall and Carlos freezing as well, the look in their eyes showing that they know more than they’re letting on if the way they stared between Logan and James is any indication. Clearing his throat, Logan puts on a neutral voice. “Where’ve you guys been? Gustavo’s screaming my ear off about rehearsals.”

“It’s our last night,” James shrugs, an easy smile on him. “What could possibly go wrong?”

* * *

“ _James_...”

“Fuck...”

“ _James..._ ” Logan surges up, gripping the lapel of James’ coat as he’s pushed up the wall.

Lips press harder, swallowing up the breathless whines of his name. James groans at the electricity sparking between their bodies. “Damn it, Logan,” he whispers against the warming skin across Logan’s jaw. “The second I tell you not to, you just had to–”

“I had to test it out,” Logan breathes in response. “You’ve been driving me crazy.”

“Was it a gay crisis?” James smirks, kissing his way back to meet those lips.

“How did you–?” The kiss blocks the rest of his question but Logan still wants an answer.

“Less talk, more kissing,” James insists, teasing the soft flesh of Logan’s bottom lip.

His mind and body concedes to the idea easily. Logan holds James close, fingers roaming up James’ neck, feeling the vibrations of the moans he’s swallowing from him.

A series of knocks comes from the door, Kendall’s forceful voice following. “Guys, we’re starting in ten.”

“The make-up ladies are getting pissed.” Carlos’ voice adds. “Come out of the closet.”

Logan couldn’t help the snort that leaves him. From outside, he can hear the slap of a high-five as snickers filtered in.

“Give us a second to get dressed,” James shouts back which effectively shuts up Kendall and Carlos.

“Ew, really?”

Shaking his head, Logan gives James one last kiss before he leads them both out of the supplies closet.

Kendall looks them up and down, frowning. “Can you at least look the part of  _not_  having just made out like teenagers?”

“I don’t know. Can you be any less obvious about sneaking into the next bunk above me every night?” James replies with a raised brow.

“Wait, what?” Logan turns his confused stare at Kendall and Carlos.

Carlos gives a one-armed shrug. “What?”

“ _What_?”


	20. Species-Swap

In hindsight, marrying your sister hadn’t been your brightest idea, not by a million miles’ stretch. You’re fickle by nature and attracted to beautiful things in general. But you can’t be blamed for everything; for one, she shouldn’t have said yes and then you two would’ve saved yourselves millennia of hell-raising disputes. You  _really_  should've stuck with the Lady of Good Counsel. Then again, she might’ve seen this coming and left you on purpose; damn oracular divinities.

Currently, you’re hiding (yet again) from the wrath of your sister-wife. She had discovered (yet again) another liaison that she wasn’t supposed to discover and was on a war path towards you. Deciding it best to vacate Olympus until the situation clears, you transform into an eagle and fly off. The plains of Anatolia are fine this summer and you figure there’s a king or two down there that owed you something or another.

Swooping low, your feathers are caressed by the cloud nymphs flying all around. They bow low in recognition, offering to carry you to your destination and hey, who are you to deny these lovely women. You tell them all about your search for a hideaway from your wife and they smile and nod knowingly. Descending the skies, your eagle eyes couldn’t help but notice a young boy playing by the fields outside the palace of your destination.

Bright laughter comes from the youth, fabric swirling around him as he plays by himself, running down the hills in pursuit of a wooden hoop.

You unceremoniously break free from the nymphs’ careful hold, flapping your wings and heading off towards the boy. Hovering above him, you recognize the crest of royalty pinning his tunic together at the shoulders.

The boy catches up with his hoop, picking it up with the stick in his hands before throwing it off again for the game to continue. His bare feet meet with the earth in enthusiastic steps, soiled fabric fluttering over his knees.

Curious nymphs float beside you, peering at the solitary youth you’ve apparently found to be worth your attention. With a command, you send them to take the boy’s cap.

Dark hair is exposed to the afternoon sun, complimenting his paler skin as a look of shock overcomes him. “Hey!” He abandons his stick and hoop to pursue the woolen cap carried by the wind.

That’s your cue. Taking the item from the nymphs, you spread your great wings and lowered yourself towards the boy. He’s even more beautiful up close, especially with that look of wonder on him. You settle on the ground, beak pushed forward to offer the cap.

Shaking fingers reach for it, a relieved expression blooming on the youth’s face when you let him have his cap back. “Thank you,” he grins, pulling the cap back over his head.

You try your best to look nonthreatening and it apparently works because next thing you know, the boy’s hand is on your head, smoothing down the golden feathers.

“You’re magnificent,” the boy croons, delight shining in his brown eyes when you nuzzle against his palm. “Would you like to come home with me?”

If eagles could scoff, you would’ve done just that.

* * *

Royalty is something you’re greatly familiar with. You have your own throne to rule up in the clouds and the workings of the system have all been patterned after your laws. You intimately know what’s to come next.

The youth you have claimed as your own barges out of the throne room with angry footfalls. He stops just outside the open doors to wait for you – his faithful companion. Feeling the secure clasp of talons on his shoulder, the weight of you registers minimally to his trained stature. The caress of soft feathers on his cheek brushes off the falling tears.

The man on the throne shouts for his son’s return but the both of you head off without another look back.

You know that the time has come. Five months is the usual span of your wife’s divine fury and you’re now safely out of that time frame.

The rolling hills are his favorite spot so it’s no wonder that he’s heading there to cool off his mind. He drops to sit under the shade of a great oak tree and you leave his shoulders to sit beside him on the grass.

He wipes off the tear tracks marring his face, sniffling. “Do I look like I’m ready to take a wife?” he asks you.

Looking the youth straight in the eyes, you answer him,  _Personally, I’d hate for that to happen_.

He jumps, looking around wildly for the speaker. “Who’s there?”

Nipping at his cheek affectionately, you draw the boy’s attention to yourself.  _Me_.

Panic seeps into his features and he backs away. “D-Daemon! Y-You’re–!”

The accusation hurts you and your feathers ruffle up in indignation.  _Excuse you._

It must be the sass that gets to him because he stops trying to merge with the bark of the tree. He just stares at you, dumbfounded, that precious mouth opening and closing without a word.

 _Let me take you away from here_ , you say in the kindest tone possible.

He continues to stare, flinching minimally when you inch closer.

Leaning your beak against his shoulder, your eyes roll up towards him.  _I know you’re not happy here. Your father’s certainly not going to make things easier with that plan of his..._

“Where will you take me?” he finally asks, confusion giving way to curiosity as his hand settles on your neck.

 _To where the gods live eternal,_ you promise.  _You will be among us._

“But I’m no god,” he tells you but you can see the idea take hold with the way he’s leaning closer.

You lift your beak to touch the tip of his nose.  _We’ll see about that_.

* * *

Your wife is a heartbeat away from popping a vein. Your daughter’s on the floor, jobless and in tears. The rest of your court is staring at you torn between amusement and hitting their heads against the nearest column.

Beside you stands your latest conquest, a golden boy fresh from deification. He’s staring up at you in amazement, tinged slightly with fear at being so out of place.

You draw him nearer, a confident hand on his smooth shoulder. Looking down at his big brown eyes, you smile. “You need a better name...”

He blushes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I cheated on this because it’s more Myth/Fantasy than the actual prompt but animals are difficult and since those gods transform into animals on a regular basis anyway I went with that idea :| So here we have a botched up Zeus/Ganymede Jagan style yeah


	21. Fantasy

It was neither a gift nor a curse. For future surgeon Logan Mitchell, seeing fey creatures was a fact of life. The ability was imbedded in their bloodline, passed down to the eldest male of every other generation. It was probably why he was closest to his grandparents while growing up – his grandfather was a Seer and his grandmother was a fey enthusiast.

Of course, the ability has its down sides: Logan became the introverted type. His mother had accepted early on that her son wouldn’t be one to go out and make friends with his schoolmates, or even with the playground kids. And why should he, when there were infinitely more fascinating creatures in their backyard? They taught him more about the natural order of things than his science teachers ever did.

The move to California following the death of his grandparents was hard for the whole family. Logan, especially, because it meant leaving the only real friends he’d known all his life. The temptation to join them in their realm was presented to him none too subtly, promises of wonder and bliss filled his ears but Logan resisted, for the sake of his parents if no one else.

Nobody really transfers to the tenth grade so Logan was understandably alone on his first day. He was fixing things up in his locker at the end of the day when he felt it – a soft chime like a bell ringing in his head. Logan dropped his books, all senses attuned to this magical presence like a physical pull.

The halls were fairly populated that afternoon but there was still plenty of space to maneuver if Logan needed to give chase... or run away, he still wasn’t sure.  He turned sideways, facing the East Hall corner and –  _what was that? it? he?_

Glitter was embedded on tan skin, near imperceptible to the normal gaze but Logan’s trained eyes caught it easily. Longish chestnut hair looked impossibly smooth, glossed over by the golden sun. And his eyes...

He was coming his way.

Logan wanted nothing more than to hide in his locker but the sudden weight at the pit of his stomach kept him immobile.

The group of four walked down the hallway like they owned the place and like some twisted ploy of destiny, the fairylike stranger was situated nearest to where Logan stood. He held his breath, trying to quell the anxiety building up inside him but it was impossible given the sudden burst of fragrance that flooded his senses.

“ _Fey._ ”

The word left him in a stricken whisper just as the impossible teen passed him.

For a second, the guy seemed to stop and fix him with a stare. Logan’s own eyes were wide, realizing that he was heard. Heart pounding loud in his ears, Logan thought he saw those eyes flash sliver before the guy moved on.

* * *

James Diamond.

Logan learned the name easily enough. The hard part came with keeping his observations undetected while an inkling at the back of his mind told him he was being watched. At the cafeteria, in the halls, early in the morning when he’s stepping off the bus, at the end of the day as he’s leaving the grounds – Logan couldn’t shake off the feeling of those silvery eyes on him.

The library became his refuge, its comforting mix of stuffy pages and Wi-Fi access peeling away the toughness he’d cloaked himself with to survive the school day. Today he’d hidden himself at the History and Geography shelves, unseeing the titles with one hand on a book he couldn’t identity as his mind replayed the incident that has been haunting him since lunch period.

He was sharing a table with his science lab group when the hairs at his nape stood and forced him to look behind him. A group of kids with their lunch trays passed, revealing James staring at him from three tables over. Logan’s throat dried up. It wasn’t an angry look, but it wasn’t a happy one either. There was a confused twist on James’ lips as he blatantly stared, ignoring the animated conversation going on at his own table.

Logan tried to play it cool, raising a brow in question but he doubted he got the right message across considering the fact that his hands felt numb with how tight he’d fisted them over his knees under the table.

For a couple of seconds nothing happened, and then James smoothly turned away.

Normally, Logan would’ve just buried the memory deep but he couldn’t because no matter how many times this had happened before, James has never let himself get caught. Until today. Logan found it difficult to focus on his afternoon classes with James’ face constantly at his periphery. What was that supposed to mean?

“I need this,” a voice whispered from beside him, a warm touch descending on the back of his hand.

Logan jerked to attention, staring at the hand resting over his on the book’s spine – long digits, manicured nails, a repressed glimmer under tan skin. He turned his head so fast he might’ve broken it.

James stood beside him, eyeing him sideways.

His heart missed a beat, then he pulled his hand away like he’d touched a live wire. “Sorry,” Logan muttered, backing away.

With easy grace, James pulled the book out and cradled it against his hip. Tilting his head, he asked. “Why did you say that?”

“What?” Logan blinked. “I mean, I was kind of blocking the book so–”

“I’m not talking about the book,” James clarified, stepping towards Logan.

Instinct told Logan to put some distance between them but a wooden edge pressing on the small of his back hindered his movements. He gulped, looking into James’ eyes which flashed silver just to put them on the same page. “Oh... that.”

“I don’t know what you are,” James whispered, staring Logan down with a hooded gaze. “But it’ll be best if you stay away from me.”

* * *

Days passed since they had their ‘talk’ at the library and Logan was starting to breathe easier now that James wasn’t hawking on him. He understood that James felt threatened, it wasn’t the first time that fey creatures responded in a less than positive matter to his ability and he was just thankful that James chose the civil route.

Back at home, things were finally settling in nicely. Bernard, a fire drake that Logan had found already living in their home when they moved in, had taken it as his duty to introduce Logan to the locals. By locals, of course, he meant other fey-folk.

Logan was running an errand for his mother, running late as usual because he’d spent too much time being fascinated by the neighbor’s garden gnomes and the tales of their Halloween antics. Bernard was curled invisibly over his shoulders, glad to be out of the house, causing little hijinks now and then but never going too far since that was their agreement. They entered the grocery store and took out the checklist Mrs. Mitchell had made before she left for work earlier that morning.

Grocery bags were placed carefully in the basket of his bike and Logan began pedaling home. He rode through the park where a sour water nymph waved wistfully as he passed. Turning right at the central fountain, Logan faltered and nearly crashed into a lamp post.

Bernard raised his head in alarm, wet snout nudging at Logan’s cold cheek.

Looking around, Logan kicked down the bike stand, clutching a hand to his chest. It felt like heartburn but Logan’s grandfather had taught him enough to know the difference. Scanning the trees and benches around him, Logan’s worry only increased as the shroud of night time overcame them. A cut-off cry came from his left and that was as good as any clue. Placing Bernard on his bike and instructing him to stay put, Logan dashed off through the shrubbery.

He stopped in a clearing painted in hues of blue, the temperature there was near-arctic and there was James and – wait –  _James_? Logan looked to the other corner to find a ball of bright blue fire hovering in midair.

“Get out of here!”

The shout startled Logan. James was staring at him, eyes all-silver. His clothes were rumpled and a bit sullied at the corners but he was still standing, albeit breathing harshly.

Taking James’ apparent distraction as an opportunity, the fireball charged, growing in size as it came closer to impacting.

Logan didn’t have time to think. He put one foot back, straightened his shoulders, and focused all his attention to James’ attacker. The fiery ball burst into nothing but a zephyr that ruffled the leaves. He turned back to James, suddenly feeling self-conscious with the intensity of the stare directed at him.

“What did you do?” James asked, silvery eyes turning back to normal.

“I... Dispersal spell,” Logan answered, fighting the urge to run away. “My grandfather taught me.”

“That wasn’t English,” James pointed out, walking over with narrowed eyes.

Logan shook his head instead of answering.

James stopped a foot away from Logan, his shadow falling over the shorter teen. “I told you to stay away from me.”

Biting his lip, Logan hazarded a guess. “Is it because that” he nodded towards the now-empty clearing “happens often?”

“That’s actually the first one in almost a year.” James’ hands found their way to the pockets of his jeans. “I guess I should thank you for taking care of that.”

“No problem.”

The wind blew cold air to fill the silence between them, eventually carrying over a wail that sounded like the creak of old floorboards. Logan bit off a curse at having forgotten the time. “I got to go,” he took a tentative step back, still looking up at James. “Bernard’s calling.”

“That didn’t sound human,” James frowned at him.

Logan found himself laughing, if a bit awkwardly. “That he isn’t.” When James continued to stare at him, Logan gave a shrug. “He’s a good guy, though... would you want to meet him?”

James’ mouth opened like he was going to say something but then stopped himself. He pressed his lips together, finally breaking eye contact. “You... you should go.”

“Are you going to be okay?” Logan asked.

“I’m actually rather late.” James glanced at the watch on his wrist. “Cam’s going to throw a bitch fit.” He looked at Logan, a hint of a smile on him. “I’ll see you around, Logan.”


	22. Horror

The text message was the best news Logan has received in days. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Logan smiled as he read the words again. Simple and sweet, Logan could almost hear James’ voice saying them as though the other man was right beside him. It’s been a rough couple of days and Logan could use a bit of sunshine. He replied eagerly, adding a smiley face at the end. Just as he was about to spread the good news, James’ reply told him to keep his upcoming visit a surprise.

When the band broke up, James stayed in Hollywood to pursue his solo career which had taken off really well. The rest of the guys moved back to Minnesota to do their own thing but they kept in contact... as much as the timezone difference and their busy schedules allowed, anyway. They still spent their holidays together, and James tried to fly in as much as he can for birthdays and other special occasions. As the years went by and James’ stardom rose, he found less and less time to dedicate to his friends. It was understandable and no hard feelings were kept but it was obvious how Logan tried hardest to stay in contact with him. Raves and scandals and all kinds of paparazzi business were normal things for Logan to check up on along with scientific breakthroughs; it was a little near obsessive but it’s not hurting anyone.

Besides, Logan desperately needed a break from the grisly news that’s been filling his TV screen all week. A gruesome series of murders has been happening all over the place and it had both the police and the media on high alert. Thinking about them now, Logan froze in the middle of chewing his breakfast to send James a warning about it, just in case he hadn’t heard.

* * *

James’ plane had touched down and Logan had taken the afternoon off to meet him at the airport. He’d expected fangirls and paparazzi to crowd the arrival area but there was not a single one on sight. Logan credited it to better security. He kept an eye out for James’ impressive form, something that couldn’t be hidden by a cap or sunglasses.

“Logan! Over here!”

Turning around, Logan was surprised to find James wheeling his luggage over. “Hey!” Logan met James halfway in a hug. “How was your flight?”

“Good,” James replied. “Thanks for offering a room to stay.”

“Just because you’re swimming in money doesn’t mean you can’t freeload off old friends every now and then.” Logan made to get James’ suitcase but the popstar waved off his efforts.

“I can handle this,” James assured him, draping an arm over Logan’s shoulders to lead them out. “So, tell me what’s been happening around here...”

* * *

“That’s...”

“Disgusting? Gory? Unappetizing?” Logan listed off adjectives as he brought salad to the dinner table.

James cradled his face with a palm, turning his eyes away from the TV broadcast. “Sad,” he concluded, meeting Logan’s eyes.

“I guess it is,” Logan shrugged as he took a seat opposite James. “Those poor girls’ families were on the news the other night and it was unbearable to watch.”

“They all had such bright futures ahead of them, too,” James commented.

“In this economy?” Logan chuckled as he began serving chicken.

James gave him a look of wry amusement. “Seriously, Logan, those pretty faces were wasted bruised up like that...”

Looking at the images flashing on screen, Logan felt a little bit of bile rise up his throat, which was saying something considering his job was to stare at and fix up broken body parts every day. “Okay,” he grabbed the remote and turned off the TV. “Enough of that, what do you say we meet up with Kendall and Carlos tomorrow for lunch?”

“I don’t know about lunch,” James said, stabbing a cherry tomato with his fork. “I kind of had plans.”

“What plans?” Logan asked, “I thought you were on break.”

Shrugging, James twirled his for around. “I’m free for dinner, though.”

* * *

Another body was discovered.

Logan had just come out from an operation when the whispering nurses got his attention. He’d barely stayed on his feet throughout the procedure, the migraine he’d suspected in the morning was turned up to the max under pressure. The stitches should work just fine, though, and Logan was desperate to get out of the room. He stopped a passing intern, pulling her to the side. “What was that about?”

Her nameplate read Larson, Carrie and her face was nearly as pale as her uniform. “There’s a new victim, roommate found her dead on the front steps of their apartment.”

“Any leads?” Logan asked, the crease between his brows deepening as he thought of James wandering around town.

“No, but the police said they’re getting a clearer view of the killer’s profile,” Carrie said.

“And?”

“He’s after the model types. Brunettes in particular. And the way he mangles them makes it look like a personal vendetta.”

* * *

“Carlos, come on, pick up...” Logan tapped impatiently at his keyboard, phone held between his ear and shoulder. Kendall let his call go to voicemail which meant either he was on duty or he’d forgotten his phone at home again. The web page loaded up with photos of the four victims, Facebook profile pictures set side by side with the crime scene shots.

Carrie was right, they were all brunets with sculpted bodies fit for the catwalk. But the way the cuts tore open their skin made the staring come from a different range of emotion. The article accompanying the photos said the police suspected a first-time killer, given the multiple stabs at both vital and non-vital organs and mismatched pattern of the deaths. One of the girls, a singer at a downtown bar, was left hanging on the fire escape ladder behind her workplace. Shirt torn up and soaked with blood, Logan noticed a slash mark just above her left breast. Zooming in, Logan could see its crude workmanship. Tilting his head to one side, he found that it resembled a gem, a diamond of some twisted sort.

Three knocks came from his door and Logan hastily closed the tab. Straightening up in his seat, he pulled off the phone that had stopped ringing minutes ago, placing it at the corner of his desk. “Come in.”

James entered with a shaky smile, pulling off his scarf. “My god, did you hear the news just now?”

“Close the door, James,” Logan hissed, jumping off his seat.

With the door locked behind him, James joined Logan on the couch set up for patients. “I just got a call from my agent, she wants me back stat.”

“For once I actually agree with the guy,” Logan stated, pressing the tips of his fingers together. “I know you just came in but the situation here really isn’t prime for your vacationing mood.”

James scoffed. “Like California’s any better, with the presses hounding on my every move.”

“Better TMZ than an axe murderer!” Logan exclaimed.

“Is it an axe murderer?” James asked, eyes wide.

“You’re missing the point,” Logan glared. “Look, James, I can’t put my mind at ease knowing there’s a killer out there targeting brunettes and you’re strolling around town and what if he spots you?”

“You’re overreacting, Logan,” James chuckled, smoothing the lapel of Logan’s lab coat. “I think the stress is getting to you. Maybe  _you_  should try taking a break.”

“And go where?”

“I don’t know.” James’ fingers trailed over Logan’s shoulder, dropping low to feel the embossed nameplate pinned over his breast pocket. “Visit your girlfriend, go snowboarding, what do you usually do for fun?”

“I can’t,” Logan muttered, watching James retract his hand and fold it over his lap. “Girlfriend is non-existent at the moment and the medical field is pretty serious business...”

“Then just stay at home,” James suggested, a sly smirk curling at the corner of his mouth. “Since I don’t plan to leave until my vacation is over, I’ll be right there with you and it’ll be like old times.”

“That won’t be fair to you.” Logan’s shoulders slumped. “I can’t hog you all to myself when it’s been months since the guys saw you.”

“We can invite them over,” James replied flippantly, but there was a secretive edge to his tone. “But I clearly remember the two of us having fun when we’re stuck at home...  _just_  the two of us, I mean.”

Logan licked his lips, skin warming up too easily at the insinuation. Those were just horny teenaged experiments but neither of them could deny their enjoyment of it. “We’re in my office, James,” he tried to sound firm but his body betrayed him by going along too easily to the pull of James’ hand. “Anyone could walk in–”

“I just want to help, Logan.” James shifted closer until there was no space left between them on the couch.

“How is this supposed to help?” Logan was definitely failing all attempts to stave this off. Accepting that fact only made it easier to fit his hand on James’ shoulder, an anchor keeping him from losing his mind in worry.

Cupping Logan’s face with his hands, James straightened out the creased brows with his palms, laying a tender kiss on Logan’s forehead. “You forget how much I loved you.”

* * *

At James’ insistence the TV stayed off. The only news Logan had about the murder spree was that all citizens were advised to stay at home unless going out was completely necessary and there was a curfew instituted. Other than that, Logan was wrapped safe in the oblivion of 90s movies and James’ embrace.

Mornings were practically nonexistent as Logan’s body clock became attuned to waking him up at noon. James was usually right next to him, playing games on his iPad or peppering Logan’s shoulder with butterfly kisses.

“You’re right,” Logan mumbled somewhere around the third day, padding over and laying on the cool floor. “This is relaxing...”

James smirked, pausing in his exercise and repositioning himself so that he was on top of Logan.

“Have you eaten yet?” Logan asked, pushing back the sweat-soaked bangs from James’ forehead.

“I did.” James punctuated his response with a kiss to Logan’s fingers. Bracing his hands on either side of Logan’s face, James resumed his push ups. “Kendall called while you were asleep.”

“What did he say?” Logan’s offhanded question filled space between James’ labored grunts.

“He said sorry about not picking up your call and–”James cut himself off with a laugh, dipping his head to look into Logan’s eyes. “Are you even listening to me?”

With a coy bite on his lower lip, Logan answered, “I can totally hear your body talk.”

James burst into laughter, elbows sinking to the floor as his body fell on top of Logan’s. “So this is what too much relaxation does to you...”

“You dragged me into this,” Logan murmured, sliding their mouths into place. He arched his body off the floor, hands gathering sweat as he traced the contours of the muscled body over him.

James rocked their hips together, breaking their kiss to moan out, “Missed you so much.”

“You have no idea,” Logan breathed, fingers pressing crescents into sunkissed skin, keeping James close.

“Pretty sure I can feel it right here,” James quipped, tongue darting out to tease at Logan’s neck. Sucking on the pulse point, James guided Logan’s legs to his side, taking hold of the swelling flesh in between them.

Logan shuddered. “James–”

 “I’m right here.” James kissed the underside of his jaw, smiling against reddening skin. “Right where you want me.”

* * *

“Logan! Logan, open up!”

The thumping from his door sounded powerful enough to break it off its hinges.

Groaning, Logan pulled the blanket over his head. “James, get the door.” There was no sound of movement, only a repeat of the knocking from outside.

“Come on, dude, open up or I'll break this down!”

“Wait, damn it, I have a key.”

The lock turned and Logan buried himself deeper into bed, face pressing into the warm pillow.

“Where are you?”

Swift footsteps head towards his bedroom and Logan squirmed, trying to cover himself up but then his leg dipped into something wet and cold. The bedroom door banged open just as Logan forced himself awake, bleary vision flooded with red.

Logan sat up, finding Kendall and Carlos in his room. The place was a mess, furniture was upturned and it smelled like an operating room minus the sterilization factor. The green bedsheets were caked with brown material and there, right beside his leg, was a damp patch of rust-colored liquid. Logan stopped himself from throwing up for the sake of not making the smell any worse than it already was.

“My god...” Kendall’s eyes were wide, the panic and fear in them mixing up a cocktail of worst-case-scenarios but it was pretty clear what had happened – has been happening in this room.

Carlos had one hand on the police radio strapped to his belt, gaze jumping from the broken photo frames, torn up pillows, scratches on the walls, and the blood. Blood was everywhere, but it was centered around the bed where Logan was wrapped in nothing more than the soiled covers. “Don’t make any sudden moves, Logan,” Carlos said in a voice that was miraculously calm, holding up a hand to show Logan he meant no harm.

Logan broke out in cold sweat, heart beating like he’d ran a marathon in his chest.

“Logan,” Kendall’s voice filled the ringing silence, concern emanating from his stance. “Logan, where have you been? What do you remember?”

Looking at his two friends, Logan felt electricity shock his spine and he turned to look beside him finding empty space. A whisper behind his ear told him the girl’s body has been taken care of. He shivered, feeling bared and afraid of the ghostly fingers running down his arms. Pulling his knees up to his chest, Logan tried to even out his breaths. He found his friends staring back at him in equally growing concern and realization, on the wall right beside them was an uneven carving of a diamond similar to the ones found on all the victims’ chests.

“Where’s James?” Logan finally asked even though he already knew the answer.


	23. Pre-21st Century

Light rain pitter-pattered over the cobblestone street, a fresh breeze greeting him as he pushed the door open. Pulling his coat tighter, he tipped his hat to the coachman who gave a gruff nod, warily eyeing the building behind them.

“That’s not a good place from what I hear,” the coachman grumbled. “’Ye sure you’ve got the right address?”

He returned the man’s kindness with a tight smile and a quick turnabout. “Have a good night, sir.” Taking the short stone steps to the front door, he hit the brass knocker thrice against the wood.

A face peered from the sliver opened, green eyes bright despite the lateness of the evening looked him up and down. The pointed smile he was accustomed to broke through and the lock was undone.

Slipping inside, he’s pulled into a hug that ended with a slap between his shoulder blades.

“It’s been a while, Logan, thought the epidemic got you, too.” The lift of a brow asked for permission to ask a further question.

“I don’t get sick easily, Kendall, you know that.” Logan pulled off his hat, gloved fingers flicking off the droplets stuck to the velvet. A loud thump from the second landing drew his attention for a moment, then he proceeded to look around the familiar reception hall – its bare walls and raggedy collection of chairs oddly empty at what he remembers to be a usually busy day.

“Can’t say that for most of us,” Kendall shrugged. “May I take your coat?”

“That depends,” Logan replied. “First, I demand answers.”

Kendall clucked his tongue. “If this is going to take long, why don’t we have a drink?” He started for the kitchen down the left-hand hallway, Logan following a step behind.

In the middle of pouring coffee, the back door opened to allow a broad-shouldered man entry. A newsboy cap sat waterlogged atop his head and his gray shirt and pants were blotched with rainwater, sticking to his tanned skin. He smiled brightly at Kendall, looking like he was about to jump him, but then he saw Logan and a bit of self-control held him back.

“What are you doing here?” Kendall asked while the man locked the door and pocketed a key.

“I’m looking for one of my boys,” the man replied pulling off his cap to reveal dark short-cropped hair. “About this high” he placed a hand near his shoulder “red-head, usually in stripes. Seen him?”

“Second floor,” Kendall answered, dimples showing with his lopsided smile. “Let me pour you a cuppa, he might take a while to get back to you.”

As the man settled on a chair beside Logan, his dark eyes none-too-subtly studied the doctor. Logan bit his tongue, feeling a bit uncomfortable talking now that there was this stranger with them.

“Logan” Kendall placed mugs of coffee in front of his guests and did the introductions. “meet Carlos. Carlos, this is Logan. I’m sure you’ve heard of him.”

The way Carlos’ eyes went round made Logan lean away a little. “Oh. So  _you’re_ the Logan.”

Bristling, Logan took hold of his mug a little too tightly. “What do you mean  _the_  Logan?”

Carlos finished a sip before answering. “James talked about you a lot.”

“You know James?” It was Logan’s turn to stare curiously.

“Who doesn’t know James?” Kendall scoffed, taking the only seat left.

Logan scowled. “Let me rephrase that. You’ve been talking to James?”

Shrugging, Carlos answered with the lip of the mug against his mouth. “Yeah. Why?”

“He’s... Well, I think we’ve had a misunderstanding,” Logan admitted, pressing his lips together.

With a roll of his eyes, Kendall chuckled. “Ain’t that an understatement...”

“I was hoping to get some answers.” Logan shot Kendall a pointed look over the rim of his coffee mug.

“Then why don’t you talk to him directly?”

“That’s why I’m here.” Looking briefly at the ceiling, Logan allowed a bit of his anxiety to show. “Is he with a client or can I go up directly? I can pay for the rest of the night in advance though I doubt he’d want to spend that much time with me if the lack of response letters is any indication.”

“Um.” Kendall and Carlos shared a look, looking like neither wanted to be the one to break the news.

“What?” Logan gripped the mug handle tighter.

It was Kendall who answered. “He moved out a week ago.”

* * *

James’ new place was in the opposite side of town, stronger rain cascading over the red bricks and nearly drowning the flowering plants by the windowsill. The lights were on but the closed curtains gave no indication of who was in. Logan held his borrowed umbrella over his head, taking deep, steadying breaths before walking up the covered porch. Closing the umbrella, Logan raised a gloved fist just under the brass 0126 stuck on the wooden door.

Carlos’ words rang in his ears. There had to be a reason why James didn’t tell him about the move.

Still, Logan’s inner voice countered, he can’t just let things end like this. If James wanted to get rid of him, then Logan would rather hear it face to face and not through an abrupt cut-off in communication. Exhaling, Logan went ahead but before his fist could make contact with the door it opened.

A bearded man in a navy coat stared at him from inside, golden light pouring out in a square.

Logan froze. Kendall wouldn’t give him a wrong address... would he?

The man inside the door was taller than Logan, a handsome scar running down the side of his face. He raised both brows at the sight of the man on the welcome mat, smirk curling beneath his thick beard. Stepping forward, his boots took him around Logan and into the pouring rain.

Door left open, Logan suddenly understood who the man was. Biting at his cheek, Logan gathered courage and knocked anyway. The front door opened to a sitting room with a hallway at the back, on his immediate right was a tall vase and a flight of stairs leading to the upper level. Almost a minute had passed before James descended those same stairs, slippers on his feet and a maroon robe covering him.

“Hey,” James’ tone was light but the tightening of his hand on the balustrade countered his offhand expression.

“I know it’s late,” Logan started, taking off his hat to have something to busy his hands with. “And I know you hate impromptu visits but... can I come in?”

“I...” James bit his lip, eyes looking at the rainstorm and then at Logan. Sighing, he finally nodded. “Fine, come in.”

The slam of the door muffled the sound of blessed rain. James took the umbrella and placed it in the vase, helping Logan out of his coat before hanging it by the coatrack on the other side of the door from the vase-turned-umbrella-stand. Logan hung his hat over his coat.

“Would like some tea? Biscuits?” James asked, taking a step back towards what Logan assumed to be the kitchen.

“Thanks, but I’m alright.” Logan undid his gloves and stuffed them in his pocket, eyes on the rich brown carpet. When James didn’t follow that up, Logan felt a little more unwelcome. Side-eyeing the cream wallpaper, he blurted out, “Why weren’t you replying to my letters?”

There’s a shuffle of footsteps and then James’ hand landed on Logan’s shoulder. Meeting meek brown eyes, James jerked his head towards the sofa. They settled on the plush seats, a simple elegance permeating the whole room’s style. James picked a bright red apple from the fruit bowl and offered it to Logan. When Logan declined, James took a bite, the crisp sound dispelling the awkwardness slithering between them. “How are you, Logan?” James asked.

“Better now,” Logan replied, resting the small of his back against the sofa arm. “Found a cure for that illness spreading around and stopped it just in time.”

James nodded, taking another bite of fruit. “And your wife? She gave birth a while ago, didn’t she?”

“She’s doing well.” Logan traced the lines of the cushion beside his leg. “The baby’s a boy, little Hortense Mitchell.”

A dignified snort came from James. “What kind of a name is Hortense?”

Smile pulling at his lips, Logan met James’ eyes for a second. “It was her grandfather’s name. He was the best, apparently, though he died in a boating accident when she was twelve.”

“Let’s hope little Hortense doesn’t share the same fate,” James grinned.

“True.” Sensing an upcoming lull in the conversation, Logan jumped ahead with his question. “Did I do something wrong, James?”

Twirling the apple by its short stalk, James looked at the curtains, the small partition between them showing him drops of rain racing down his window. “Nothing of the sort,” he answered shortly.

Dragging a hand down his mouth and chin, Logan sighed. “Then what’s with this?”

“Hm?”

“I’m not stupid, James.”

“I know. You’re a doctor, graduated top of your class and everything.”

“Don’t–” The tirade died in Logan’s throat and he deflated. “If it’s over between us say it to my face...” He looked James in the eyes. “Don’t suddenly start avoiding me, making me worry why no replies are coming around, having me search every medical record to know if you somehow ended up sick in my hospital...”

“We’re through,” James stated simply, hand cupping the red apple idly against his chest.

Logan’s jaw tightened, Adam’s apple bobbing. “That’s it?”

“It’s what you came to hear, isn’t it?” James gave a quick mirthless smirk.

“Why?” Logan could hear the begging in his own voice no matter how much he tried to hide it.

James yawned softly. “I thought we agreed that I never have to explain anything to you?” He raised the apple to his lips, taking another small bite.

“This is different.” Logan’s hands fisted into the fabric of his pants. “I don’t care about whoever else it is that’s under your sheets. I don’t care about the guy that just left here and whatever business he had with you. I want to know because this is about us, you and me, and I–”

“Damn you.” James threw the apple across the room. Turning his gaze on Logan, the heat in them unmasked for the other man to see. “The one thing I try to do right and you go and turn it against me!”

“What are you even talking about?” Logan moved closer, drawn in by the anger and arousal that’s permeating the air between them.

“This isn’t going to work anymore,” James gritted out. “You’ve got a wife and kid to take care of.”

Logan flinched but refused to back down. “I know that. But that’s also true for half the guys going into Kendall’s brothel.”

“I don’t give a shit about those other guys!” James turned away, hand slapped over his eyes. “They could get castrated for all I care but you... You know how I feel. And I can’t fuck you in good conscience knowing that there’s a kid out there missing his father.”

The falling rain reverberated too loud in the stone silent room.

“James?” Logan whispered, fingers brushing away the brown hair to touch the soft skin under them. Palm slowly curling over James’ nape, Logan inched nearer as he gently turned James towards him. He plucked James’ hand away from his eyes, meeting the sad gaze beneath them. Tucking one leg under himself, Logan leveled his face with James’, one hand on his nape and the other caressing his cheek.

James whimpered, a most heartbroken look upon him as he melted against Logan’s touch. “I don’t want Hortense to grow up like I did, Logan... I don’t want your wife to hate you like my mom hated my dad...”

Everything was hushed, quiet, as Logan brushed their lips together. The brief touch seemingly blocking out all the noise in the world save for the soft breaths that passed from one mouth to the other.

 _I love you_. Logan pressed the words against James’ lips, sealing them with his tongue. He savored the apple-sweetness that lingered in James’ mouth, moaning at the wet drag of James’ tongue against his own. The grip of large hands on his waist pulled him onto James’ lap.

Chests pressed together, James ran his hands over Logan’s back, pulling the shorter man further into him as he rested their whole weight against the sofa. Heat seeped through the layers of fabric separating them, touch and all other senses too easily falling into a familiar pattern of  _want_.

* * *

“Logan...?”

Running his fingers through soft brown hair, Logan mumbled his response over cooling skin. “Yes?”

“We shouldn’t have done this.” James’ voice was small, head resting in the crook of Logan’s neck, hand pressed over the rhythmic thumping under his chest.

“I can’t be perfect for everybody, James,” Logan whispered back. “But I’m not giving up on you.”


	24. Apocalypse/Dystopia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For this chapter, the following names should be kept in mind: Logan – Brutale Manner, James – Diamond Dust, Katie – Mae Q Snap, Kendall – Slapshot, Carlos –Meteor Mile, Gustavo – G-ROC, Kelly – Bowlhead, Lucy –Cyanide Prime.
> 
> I borrowed the Fabulous Killjoys universe from My Chemical Romance's Danger Days album for this one, I hope that's okay.

 “Dogs! Abort mission! I repeat: Abort mission!”

G-ROC’s staticky voice only added to the cacophony of explosions and laser beams shooting off around them.

“I can’t do that, G!” Slapshot shouted back, ducking out of his hiding place for a second to shoot at a figure in a white jumpsuit and a vampire mask. “This is my chance!”

“And it’s gonna be your last chance if you don’t get out of there stat!” G-ROC bellowed, panic and fury carrying through the communicators. “Pigs are gonna be swarming the area in a matter of minutes! Get to the van!”

“Brutale is hit!” A new voice interrupted behind the blasts. “And I’m running out of ammo.”

Slapshot took down a couple more Draculoids as he ran towards the double doors at the far end of the room. A series of violet laser beams flew over his shoulder, hitting another masked henchman crouched behind a topiary plant.

“G-ROC said to evacuate, what the hell are you doing?!” Hazel eyes glared daggers at him over the paisley bandana covering the lower half of his face.

“Jo is right behind that door, Dai!” Slapshot fired at the doors’ dividing line, leaving scorch marks and a couple of dents. “I promised her I’ll save her!”

“What about the rest of us?” Diamond Dust caught up with Slapshot, gripping him by the elbow and forcing the man to face him. “Mile’s with Brutale, it’s not looking good for either of them.”

“We’re literally at their front door,” Slapshot pulled his arm free, pointing his laser gun at the door and shooting another line down the middle. The doors gave a  _thung,_  the metal hinges groaning at their disrupted balance.

“Bowlhead saw a helicopter take off five minutes after we barged in,” Diamond hissed. “Jo’s not gonna be there, Slapshot. Now let’s scram while we still have a chance.”

“I need to see for myself,” Slapshot marched ahead, steel-toed boots meeting with the damaged door.

In spite of himself, Diamond held his breath and stood still as the doors gave way. The metal slabs crashed and fell onto a black carpet, blinding fluorescents lit up the two-toned room revealing a glass table and aluminum chairs. Sitting on the tabletop was a bomb with red digitals counting down from 20.

“Fuck.”

* * *

“Where’s my brother?!” Mae Q Snap demanded, round eyes narrowed behind the electric blue mask.

Bowlhead and G-ROC shook their heads at her, helping Brutale Manner limp out of the elevator. His visor-shades were cracked and a thick trail of blood ran down the left side of his face.

“Hey, what happened?” Snap ran around the trio, ponytail bobbing as she skidded to a halt.

Outfits singed and smelling of burnt skin, Diamond Dust and Slapshot shuffled out with Meteor Mile taking up the rear.

Slapshot gave his younger sister a sour look.

“This is why you should’ve let me come with you!” Snap grumbled, sticking to Slapshot’s side. “I’ve been training with Prime! I can do a headshot!”

“Katie, please, not now!” Slapshot hissed as he stormed away.

Snap stopped following and curled her hands into fists. Nobody called her that, not since the death of their mother. She knew her brother was upset but his head was totally wrapped  _and warped_  around Jo that it felt like she was losing him, too. A gloved hand landed on her shoulder.

Meteor Mile gave her a comforting smile, cheek smudged with ash. “Let him cool off.”

“I love Jo, you know I do, but this” Snap thrust a hand towards the room Slapshot had locked himself in. “Is the start of a downward spiral if I ever saw one.”

“Still,” Mile patted Snap’s shoulder gently. “You can’t blame him. She’s the love of his life.”

Rolling her eyes, Snap muttered. “And she’s also the daughter of the mastermind behind BL/ind.”

Diamond Dust left them to their usual coping-with-Slapshot’s-moods conversation, heading to the infirmary to see to the love of  _his_ life.

* * *

“Do you need me to get you anything?”

Brutale looked up from the operating table, moving the gauze pad away from his left eye. Quirking a smile, he patted the space beside him.

Diamond grinned, taking the proffered spot and carefully lifting the gauze. There was a pretty long gash underneath but it didn’t look deep. The blood had been cleaned off his face but the folded coat sitting on his other side would need some heavy duty detergent to fix it. Pressing a kiss to the shorter man’s cheek, Diamond wrapped an arm around Brutale’s waist. “I should’ve just left Slapshot up there and came to your side.”

A snort left Brutale as he pressed the sterilized cloth against the wound. “But if you weren’t there, he’d be dead by now. I’m fine, Diamond, stop worrying.”

“Next time, I’m sticking beside you,” Diamond promised. “And we’ll have to bring Snap around. She and Prime could be real assets to this hell of a rescue mission.”

“That’s assuming Prime would want anything to do with it.”

They sat together in silence until Brutale had to change his gauze. Once Brutale was finished with sterilizing a new cloth, Diamond helped his lover cover up the gash, taping the gauze in place and sealing his work with a kiss.

Brutale grinned, hopping off the operating table. He wobbled on his feet, the bandaged leg not quite ready to support his weight.

“Here. Let me.” Diamond sidled up to Brutale, poised to lift the man into his arms.

“You gonna carry me?” Brutale lifted a brow.

“Like the wife you were always meant to be.” Hefting Brutale bridal-style, Diamond wore a smug smirk as he carried him towards their quarters.

“Shut up.” Brutal was blushing, weakly slapping Diamond’s chest.

“You should’ve married me when I asked,” Diamond singsonged, pushing their door open with his foot.

“You proposed in a blown up chapel in the middle of Las Vegas,” Brutale eyed him, expression softening when Diamond carefully laid him down on the bed. “But I did say yes, you know...”

Diamond frowned in confusion and wonder. “When?”

Smiling, Brutale held Diamond’s palm to his lips for a soft kiss. “Every day since.”


	25. Children

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a kind-of sequel to [Chapter 5](http://archiveofourown.org/works/844780/chapters/1613156) because everybody loves the name Hortense and I’ll take any excuse to use it

“You want me to  _what_?”

James’ smile grew, the sparkle in his eyes glittering brighter by a thousand fold. “Join the hockey team. It’s going to be super fun and we’re all going for the try outs tomorrow. You’re the only one missing.”

Hortense grimaced. “I don’t know...” He shut his locker and leaned back against it. “I don’t think I’m built for that kind of... aggressiveness.”

“Nobody has died playing hockey,” James snorted, fixing his hair and checking with the mirror inside his locker before closing it as well. He smirked at Hortense. “And besides, middle school girls totally dig the jock types.”

Looking down at his sweater vest and loafers, Hortense sighed in defeat. “Don’t start comparing me to you, Mr.-I-Lost-All-Baby-Fat-Now-Girls-Are-Lining-Up-To-Date-Me.” He didn’t mean to sound so...  _mean,_  but one look at James’ crestfallen expression made the alarms go off in his head. “James, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I’m just trying to help you out,” James said, pulling back on half a pout.

“I know, and you’re a really great friend for that.” Hortense bumped their shoulders, offering a smile in apology. “If I say I’ll think about it, will that make you feel better?”

“Fine,” James conceded. “But I am so setting Kendall on you at lunch. See if you can resist my awesome plan then.”

* * *

“Hey, if you’re happy with the math club then good for you...”

“Kendall!” James slapped a hand to the table top, glaring at the blond sitting across from him.

Mouth stuffed with a chili dog, Kendall responded with a muffled, “What?”

James seethed, hands moving agitatedly. “You were supposed to tell Hortense to  _join us_. Not stick to his nerd-a-palooza bunch of–”

“I’m right here, James,” Hortense deadpanned.

James stopped mid-rant, blinked, and composed himself. “I knew that.”

“Why are you so persistent about this, anyway?” Hortense narrowed his eyes at James.

“Ooh! Ooh! Me! I know why!” Carlos bounced up and down on his seat, a corn dog in each hand.

Kendall raised a brow at the boy beside him. “You do?”

“No you  _don’t_ , Carlos.” James smile tightened.

“But you said while we were playing video games the other day that–”

“O-KAY!” James interrupted, standing up and walking around to Carlos. “I’m thinking now’s a good time to start planning that science project, don’t you? Oh, yeah, I agree. Brilliant idea, James! See you guys later!”

Watching James drag Carlos out of the cafeteria, Hortense opened and closed his mouth trying and failing to find the right words. When the two were finally out of sight, he turned to find Kendall calmly sipping on his soda. “Was that not suspicious to you? In any way? At all?”

“That’s just James being James.” Kendall popped the last of his lunch into his mouth and chewed. “You haven’t met his mom yet; he’s used to getting what he wants.”

“I guess that makes sense.”

* * *

“James, are you avoiding me?” Hortense’s confused expression morphed into a sorry one when James turned around, revealing that he was talking to a girl. “Oh, um, sorry, I didn’t see you there... Rica?”

“Rebecca.” The girl popped a bubblegum at Hortense. Turning her eyes back to James, she smiled sweetly. “I’ll catch you later.”

“Cool, see ya.” James turned his back to Rebecca who walked away with a sway in her hips. He put up a cheery smile. “Hey, you. Guess who’s got a movie date this weekend?”

“Evidence points to you,” Hortense said, trying to remain civil. “Look, James, I figure I should say sorry for not showing up at try outs yesterday. Johnny started puking in the middle of the math club meeting and I had to take him to the nurse. I kept the poor guy company until his dad picked him up.”

“Hortense, please” James leveled a friendly smile at the shorter boy. “I shouldn’t have tried to force you into something you obviously had no interest in. We all have different hobbies and I have to respect that. So... no harm done?”

Squinting up at James, Hortense tilted his head a bit in thought. “That speech sounded a lot like Kendall.”

“I don’t know what cue cards you’re talking about.” James looked off and started whistling.

Hortense chuckled. “Fine. But tell me, was it true about Carlos taking on those eight graders?”

“Oh totally.” James nodded. “Guess who’s gonna be on the starting line in the juniors league.”

* * *

Sometimes Hortense would bring his homework to the rink, finishing up the easy ones while looking up every now and then to watch Kendall, James, and Carlos practice with the middle school ice hockey team.

It’s something of a compromise and it gave them an even bigger excuse to hang out afterwards. Mrs. Knight would pick the boys up after practice and they’d claim the den where Hortense would then do his job of helping his friends with  _their_  homework.

One Friday afternoon, Kendall’s mom wasn’t there to pick them up. She got caught between groceries and traffic so the boys were pretty much stranded. Luckily, Kendall was cool with the staff and they were allowed to skate a little while waiting for Mrs. Knight.

Carlos knocked on his helmet before swooping onto the ice.

“Hortense, come on.” James had his skates tied together and slung over one shoulder.

“What?” Hortense hugged his bag tighter to his chest. “Uh, no thank you.”

“But – it’s – so – much –fun!” Carlos shouted from the rink, racing Kendall from one end to the other.

“We can borrow some skates for you,” Kendall stopped by the window right in front of Hortense.

“It’s just us here.” James walked up to the smart boy, pulling the backpack out of his arms. “Come on.”

“But it’s cold in there... and slippery.” Hortense eyed the hockey rink. “I don’t think my mom would be too happy if I get into an accident.”

“You talk like you haven’t skated your whole life.” James’ chuckles died when Hortense didn’t correct him. Jaw dropping, he threw his hands out dramatically making the shorter boy cringe. “YOU HAVEN’T TOUCHED THE ICE?”

Scared, Hortense shook his head.

“NOT EVEN ONCE?”

“No,” Hortense admitted in a squeak.

“Wait,  _what_?” Inside the rink, Carlos slammed into a wall.

* * *

“James, this is ridiculous!” Hortense protested, flushed cheeks visible above the thick scarf wrapped around his neck and half his face. “Kendall – tell him it’s ridiculous!”

“Sorry, bud, but I’m team James on this one.” Kendall stood behind the bench Hortense was seated, hands on the reluctant boy’s shoulders.

“Seriously, guys, I’m not going to lose anything by not knowing how to skate,” Hortense grumbled as James continued to tie an old pair of Carlos’ skates on his feet.

“For a guy who loves learning so much, you’re oddly reluctant to learn this,” James commented as he finished with the laces.

Hortense’s face paled. “What if I break a bone? Or two? Or  _three_?”

“There are five year olds skating on that pond,” James pointed out as he stood up, offering both hands to Hortense. “You’re way smarter than a five year old, you’ll figure it out.”

“Think of it as a physics lesson.” Kendall helped Hortense off his seat.

“Sixth graders don’t  _have_  physics lessons,” Hortense squealed, gripping James’ hands like his life depended on it – which it probably did.

“I won’t let go of you,” James promised, squeezing Hortense’s hands. His smile was genuine and the crisp morning light made him look nothing short of angelic.

Hearing those words, Hortense couldn’t help but trust his friend a little more. The shaking in his legs lessened and he took his first tentative step forward.

“Good, take it nice and slow,” Kendall coached, leaning forward on the bench.

“One step at a time.” James backtracked gradually, attuned to every tremor that passed from Hortense’s hands to his. It was a slow progression but he eventually got the shorter boy on the edge of the frozen pond. “Walking’s easy, right?”

“It’s... bearable.” A cloud of air formed in front of Hortense’s face at his exhale.

James smiled encouragingly. “We’ll start the skating with little glides. Keep your eyes on me, don’t look down.”

“You’re making this sound like I’m crossing a tightrope.” Hortense grumbled, letting out another thin breath.

“Slide your left foot forward,” James instructed, moving back to counterbalance the step. “Now, your right. Okay, good.”

Hortense kept his eyes on James, faith growing with every small glide. From the sidelines, he heard Kendall tell him he’s doing great. He was beginning to smile, finally hearing the children’s laughter and taking notice of every one else having fun with this skating business.

Then Carlos skated past them with the speed of a kid hyped up on sugar, shouting “TRUST FALL!”

Jumping out of his skin, Hortense lost balance and teetered away from James. What coordination he managed to learn was forgotten in the second that his life flashed before his eyes.

“I got you! I got you!” James attempted to keep his stance but a tug on his scarf pulled him backwards. Slipping on the ice James’ fist instinct was to pull Logan to his chest.

The fall happened quicker and hurt a lot less than what Hortense expected. Opening his eyes, he found himself on top of James whose arms were around his shoulders. “James?” Hortense whispered.

Looking up at Hortense, James smiled, arms loosening once he was assured of the boy’s safety. “You okay?”

Hortense nodded. “You?”

“I’m going to kill Carlos,” James answered with a straight face.

A scream dragged their attention to the bank where Carlos was buried under snowballs, Kendall’s look of triumphant vengeance looming over him.

“Still going to kill him,” James stated, smiling when it drew a laugh from the boy on top of him.

When his laughter subsided, Hortense felt his cheeks heat up at realizing their position. “What the heck. James, I'm squishing you.” He quickly rolled off the brunet to remedy the situation.

“You're not  _that_  heavy,” James smirked, to which Hortense replied with a punch to the shoulder, face beet red.


	26. Seniors

“Over here, yes! Yes, perfect, dashing look, darlings.”

“Beautiful, I say!”

“Lean in close now!”

“Fantastic shot!”

Logan’s smile was stretching towards the awkward as the cameras continued to flash. He couldn’t imagine how James managed to do this day after day for the past twenty years but he figured he’d better start getting used to it now.

Hand sitting comfortably as well as comfortingly on Logan’s waist, James led the shorter man further down the red carpet where a woman in a clean cut dress waited on them with a microphone held out.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have with us James Diamond. Tell us, James, how do you feel about your Oscar nomination?”

Checking to see if Logan didn’t mind him lingering for a little while more, James answered swift and charming like his PR manager had taught him. “Well the competition is certainly tough but tonight, my main agenda is to have a good time.”

“Rumors have been flying on who you’d bring to the red carpet after going solo for so long,” the news anchor continued off screen while the camera focused on James and Logan. “Care to give us a name?”

James had the right words prepared for this moment but he’s surprised when Logan leaned towards the mic and spoke.

“Logan Mitchell.”

“It’s good to meet you.”

“It’s good to be here,” Logan replied, a bit more confidence boosting his smile when James’ hand squeezed his side.

“You have no idea how hard I tried to get this guy to say yes,” James said to the camera and the newswoman laughed.

“Would you call this a date, then, James?”

James shared a look with Logan before replying. “I wouldn’t call this the first, that’s for sure.”

* * *

If you asked James, their first date was at the park, aged eight and seven, when he and Logan alternated in pushing each other on the swings.

If you asked Logan, their first date was at a Science Exhibit, aged twenty and nineteen, when James flew the guys in from Minnesota to celebrate his gold record.

Both of them would agree, however, that the turning point had been when James got into that audition and Gustavo Roque plucked the teen out of their hometown and made a popstar of him. Love science proved that absence does make the heart grow fonder.

With James all the way in California, their interactions were limited to holidays and some birthdays when James’ schedule was free. The rise to stardom was no smooth street and every bit of hearsay made it all the way back to Minnesota.

* * *

It was obvious to everyone why Logan signed up for apprenticeship under Doc Hollywood after finishing his studies. The plan was to check if he could manage to fit in with the lifestyle while staying focused on his career.

For the first three months things went smoothly, then Hollywood fever set in and James – of all people – had to stage an intervention. Said intervention didn’t stay strictly friendly for long and the lust easily overtook the romance. The discovery of it by James’ manager only accelerated the corrosion.

Publicity stunts were pulled left and right, paparazzi tailing the rising star through every loophole of the law. All the drama and uncertainty crashed the car into the bridge and the both of them watched and let it burn.

Kendall and Carlos came and Logan went back with them.

* * *

The shift from music to acting started with a cameo, followed by a recurring role, and finally an indie film. James’ fanbase only grew and it showed no signs of stopping.

He finally bought the yacht he’d always dreamed of, christening the ship S. S. Awesome like he’d promised his best friends. Thinking of them grounded James, it’s been almost two years since they got together. The visits home stopped when Brooke Diamond expanded her cosmetics line to California. They would still e-mail but every press of the send button only seemed to push them further away from each other.

James dated the hot model he co-starred with in a romcom.

* * *

Logan finally got his life back on track. He had a stable job at the hospital, he earned well enough to buy a house and install a music room where he’d do covers from time to time. Katie found out from Kendall who found out from Carlos. Long-story-short, Logan soon had a small following on a YouTube account managed by his best friend’s twenty-year-old sister.

He has no idea where the EP came from but Katie was apparently selling it on a pay-what-you-want site and someone just called to sign him for a record deal. Of course it’s in fucking California.

By this point he wasn’t speaking to James anymore; no calls, no texts, not one stupid poke on Facebook. He told himself he’d never move on from it but Katie didn’t take up business management for no reason. She sweet-talked him and then down right lectured the man with the Ph. D about how he can’t waste his life on one mistake.

She’s wrong, though, Logan never thought of it as a mistake. Besides, Katie couldn’t hate him for long, anyway.

* * *

While things went quiet on Logan’s side, James was dating and dumping women so fast it could’ve become a world record.

It finally happened, the industry was choking him and the price of fame was something he’d started to deplore. With a steady line of jobs, James practically became untouchable but the rumor mill kept on churning and, as always, all it took was a little whisper.

Nobody really gave a damn who you fuck in Hollywood but when the hottest bachelor on the west coast was alleged to lean the other way – both ways – every other way imaginable, the presses had a field day.

* * *

Logan couldn’t escape him if he tried. That being said, Logan was tired of fighting it. With James’ face plastered over every newspaper, TV screen, and webpage, Logan’s defenses were crumbling.

It’s been too long and too hard for the both of them.

When James’ publicist announced a special show in Minnesota, Logan knew he had to go.

* * *

The screaming girls were a bit daunting. It’s been ages since he’d actually done a concert like this but James told himself he was ready for anything. Seeing Logan’s face in the crowd was definitely at the top of that list.

* * *

James covered his song. It was a stupid thing he wrote when he was still hurting over their break-up and he’d taken it off the web years ago but James was singing his damn song. And he was doing a great job at it. The worst part, though, was the ad-lib intro...

“I don’t know if any of you guys know this song...” James chuckled a little nervously, strumming the chords with ease. “But I want to sing it anyway because I know that you’re listening to me for the first time in a long while...” He paused, looked directly at Logan and let a beat pass before diving into the first verse.

* * *

To say their reunion was bittersweet would be way off the mark. With Kendall and Carlos watching the both of them like hawks, the air was too tense for anyone to actually enjoy the meal. Kendall asked for a ride home after dinner while Carlos too-enthusiastically volunteered to tour James around the city nightlife.

The guys were just trying be helpful and their effort was appreciated but nothing could be said about the way Logan warmed up all over when James texted him a simple “Thank you” before he went to bed.

* * *

After everything, the two of them ended right back in California on a cruise ride on the S. S. Awesome.

The key was to take things slow and to tread carefully on broken glass. No one was allowed to live their lives for them.

* * *

The day following the awards night was spent holed up in James’ Hollywood mansion with all the phones silenced, the gates secured, and their pajamas on.

To be fair, Logan should’ve expected it. To be fair, James has been waiting years for that to happen again. Their victory kiss easily put every thing else to shame.

Somewhere in the middle of the afternoon, James took out a notepad from his secret vault while Logan was curled up on the sofa, asleep. He flipped to the page scribbled in his messy fourth-grader cursive and pressed his thumb lovingly over the last tick box.

Start a movie career? Check.

Buy a yacht called S. S. Awesome? Check.

Marry Logan Mitchell? Underneath that was a bullet point that stated ‘Kiss Logan’ with a smiley face and a date but both statements had been crossed out with an angry black marker. Tear splotches marking the dark occasion.

James moved to the next line, written in ink with careful print lettering: the tick box was remade and it reminded him, quite plainly,  _Marry Logan Mitchell_.


	27. Family

“What do you mean she’s going into labor?” James is practically screaming as he walked off the set, phone cradled to his ear by a cold, sweaty palm.

“I _mean_ she’s going into labor,” Logan’s equally frantic but a lot more measured tone comes through the receiver.

“Right now?” James feels a panic attack coming as the cast and crew all turn to stare at him.

“No, tomorrow – _yes, right now_.” Sarcasm has always been Logan’s defense against anxiety. “I know you’re busy with the shoot but–”

“Like hell I’m going to miss this,” James interrupts, signaling the director over. “Tell her to hold it in, wait until I get there!”

“This isn’t the time to joke, James.” Logan’s high pitched tone of disbelief is accompanied by the muffled voices of nurses and James thinks he could hear a woman screaming. “We’re headed to the delivery ward.”

“I’m on my way,” James promises, smacking his lips over the receiver to make-do for the distance. Turning to the director, James didn’t even need to open his mouth before he’s shooed away. Speed dialing his driver, James exits the studio to loud applause and shouts of encouragement.

\--

Logan was inside the delivery room when James arrived, decked out in scrubs not much different from his usual attire. While the nurses did their best to assure him that it’s going to be fine, James still found himself pacing outside like the expectant father that he is. There were people who recognized him, pointing and inching closer to maybe ask for an autograph but by some miracle James is left to do his pacing undisturbed; he figures it’s the nurses who policed the situation, knowing how stressful it could be.

Logan comes out of the ward after about two hours, worry oozing out of every pore. “Thank god you’re here,” he mumbles into James’ chest, embracing the brunet with a ferocity that left his knees weak.

“What’s happening in there?” James asks, running a hand soothingly down Logan’s back.

Having read and watched all relevant material on the topic can only do so much to prepare him for the reality of things. Logan explains as best as he could, saying it’s normal for first time mothers to spend longer hours in labor and that so far the head obstetrician finds everything to be normal and set for a natural birth.

James wants nothing more than to go inside and see for himself but his arms are filled with a husband that needs to be taken care of and James knows his priorities. He pulls Logan out of the delivery ward, maneuvering the hospital halls with relevant ease. They reach Logan’s office where James lets himself be used as a human pillow. He listens to the same soliloquy on how Logan’s afraid he’s not qualified to be a father, how it’s unfair that James would be the one to lessen his workload to give way to raising a kid, how powerless he feels not knowing any better way of comforting the laboring woman who’s giving them so much.

Managing his own trepidation is much easier when James’ attention is focused on Logan and no one else. James reassures him that it’s going to be okay, there’s no need to be afraid, and what the hell else was their marriage for if not being there for each other in every step of the way?

Logan kisses him and James instantly feels a bit of the stress chip away.

They go back to the delivery ward after an hour, James going in with a final squeeze of Logan’s hand to keep him safe.

\--

It’s an organized mess in there.

James finds half a dozen medical people crowded around the first-time mother. He approaches her and she gives a pained smile, reaching out for his hand and holding on tight. Wiping away the sweat from her forehead, James punctuates it with a kiss to her temple.

One of the attendants ask him what happened to Dr. Diamond and James smiles broadly at the guy while his companions shush him.

“I’m Mr. Diamond and I’m the biological father,” James explains patiently, heart swelling for a reason he can’t pinpoint. “ _Dr._ Diamond is under orders to chill while I handle this. In other words, he’s pacing outside.”

There’s a brief chuckle from the woman in labor and she shoots a weak grin at him. “You dorks,” she mutters affectionately, pushing harder with every breath. This was the role of a lifetime and she’s not going to do this half-assedly. Gripping James’ hand, she can feel the rapid pumps of a heartbeat much similar to the rhythm Logan’s hand had earlier.

\--

Nine hours.

Nine freaking hours where both James and Logan could barely breathe or think. They were both allowed in at the crucial moment where the first baby crowned and was delivered. The girl came first and their little boy followed within a minute and forty seconds. With the children cleaned off and the umbilical cord severed, their mother smiles in exhausted satisfaction, holding her babies in her lethargic arms. Handing them over to their fathers, her last words before passing out is “Nobody name them Junior.”

Cradling his boy, James feels unbelievably hollow and light, arms locked together like a vice under the bundle of warmth. He kind of wishes _he_ could go bundle himself up and get some sleep. Logan steps up beside him, holding their baby girl with a certainty that she belonged there and no place else.

“You’re not thinking about naming them Junior now, are you?” Logan whispers, tired eyes peering at James.

“He doesn’t look like a Junior to me,” James replies.

“What about her?” Logan leans against James’ shoulder, the swaddled newborn clutched ever so gently against his chest.

Cocking his head thoughtfully, James leans over to peck at Logan’s cheek. “She’s an Irene. Now you pick a name for your boy...”

“Xander,” Logan answers almost excitedly. “He’ll be Alexander.”

\--

It’s past eleven in the evening when James burrows under the sheets, reaching out and shifting until he can rest his eyes against the top of Logan’s head, chest pressed to the smooth and bare back. Fingers twine themselves around his own, the heat of the other man’s body lulling him into a peaceful sleep.

In two days’ time they can bring their children home, the baby room they’d been decorating with a light green color scheme would be finally put to use and it makes James crazy with excitement. He knows little about raising children but he’s got his husband and the best surrogate mother there is, so James is confident that he can do this right.

“I can hear you thinking,” Logan mutters to which James replies with a kiss to his nape.

“Oh don’t mind me,” James whispers in a giddy tone he didn’t know he still possessed. “I’m just celebrating the fact that I finally have a good comeback when you tell me I’m old enough to be the father of half my fanbase.”

If his eyes weren’t already closed, Logan would’ve rolled them at James’ response. Instead, he pulls James’ arms tighter around him, chuckling at his own ingenious reply. “Let’s sleep while we still can...”


	28. Racebending

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For this chapter, I'm rehashing the aliases used in [Chapter 24](http://archiveofourown.org/works/844780/chapters/1613456) but with a little twist: Logan - brutale_manner05, James - diamond.dust, Kendall - knight-in-slapshot-armor, Lucy - Cyanide91Prime.

_brutale_manner05: go for it @diamond.dust ive got ur back_

_diamond.dust: goin for it xo_

_brutale_manner05: stop flirting n get fighting_

James smiled upon reading the response, fingers tapping away at the keyboard to capture an enemy fort. The game was his latest obsession with its free-to-play scheme, clean interface, and kick-ass graphics. He started playing a month ago thanks to a recommendation from Kendall and now they’ve got their own Party doing raids and gaining experience points like crazy.

_knight-in-slapshot-armor: guys i need backup on the west tower_

Zooming out to get the bigger picture, James saw that Kendall was in trouble. He turned on the microphone attached to his headset and instantly got an earful of a heavy metal baseline. “Hey, Lucy,” James shouted, delivering a fatal blow to a high-level archer that drained his stamina but with his partner buffing him up, the stats got replenished easily. “The knight needs rescuing.”

“I’m a little busy myself,” Lucy remarked scathingly. “I need the alchemist, send loverboy over.”

James frowned. “He’s not–”

“Just do it, James, or I’m gonna die and we’ll lose.” From the fort’s central tower, Lucy’s God-Mode Paladin was getting its ass handed to it, the word CRITICAL flashing over its head in red warning colors. The resounding  _click_  signaled Lucy turning off her end of the line.

She could’ve just made this easier for all of them by connecting to the group chat but  _nooo_ , she  _has_  to keep focused on battling. Fuming, James delivered the message anyway.

_diamond.dust: @brutale_manner05 prime’s critical_

_diamond.dust: buff her up xo_

_brutale_manner05: surething_

_knight-in-slapshot-armor: GUYS_

_diamond.dust: im coming geez_

With the east tower captured, James equipped a long-range weapon to his Renegade and focused his fire on the west tower.

They capture the fort with a combined attack on the Boss hidden inside the central tower, rattling the screens with the force of the damage. James got a Legendary item from the bonus. A shower of blue and silver revealed their Alchemist ascending into a Luminary.

_Cyanide91Prime: look at you @brutale_manner05_

_brutale_manner05: tnx_

_brutale_manner05: whatcha get?_

_Cyanide91Prime: shitload of mana_

_knight-in-slapshot-armor: someones getting lucky tonight_

_brutale_manner05: ???_

_diamond.dust: fuck off_

_diamond.dust: wait shit_

_knight-in-slapshot-armor: HAHA_

_diamond.dust: that was for knight_

_brutale_manner05: i know :)_

_diamond.dust: xo_

_[meteorrnile is online]_

_Cyanide91Prime: get a room_

_Cyanide91Prime: or a private server idc_

James was typing out the longest most insulting insult known to mankind when the conversation moved.

_meteorrnile: what did i miss?_

_knight-in-slapshot-armor: u were supposed 2 b raiding w/ us_

_meteorrnile: timezones confused me!!!!_

_diamond.dust: dude ur only 2hrs ahead_

_diamond.dust: its prob midnight at brutales but hes here_

_brutale_manner05: actually its 1030_

_Cyanide91Prime: poor babies_

_Cyanide91Prime: catch u guys l8r my shifts coming up_

_[Cyanide91Prime is offline]_

_brutale_manner05: i gotta go too_

_knight-in-slapshot-armor: going to get that private server?_

_brutale_manner05: school tom_

_knight-in-slapshot-armor: riiiight_

_meteorrnile: but ive only just logged in :(_

_diamond.dust: byee_

_brutale_manner: @meteorrnile sry_

_brutale_manner05: what no good night kiss @diamond.dust_

James grinned, laughing out loud with the replies from Kendall and Carlos that followed.

_meteorrnile: omg i missed the wedding?!?!?_

_knight-in-slapshot-armor: get a private server u guys!! srsly_

_diamond.dust: every1 else shut it_

_diamond.dust: @brutale_manner05 xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxxx_

* * *

After Lucy rolled her eyes at him for the umpteenth time, threatening to do it herself since he apparently didn’t have the balls, James finally clicked send. The screen now displayed a private message sent to brutale_manner05’s Luminary account.

“You’ll thank me for this in the future,” Lucy stated, patting James’ head like he was a behaved puppy.

“What if he didn’t mean them that way,” James worried, still staring at the words he would never be able to take back.

“Nobody flirts accidentally,” Kendall scoffed from the other side of the table, blowing steam off his espresso.

James looked up from the screen, hazel eyes looking worriedly through his bangs. “What if he thinks I’m just joking around?”

“You just gave him your Skype account.” Lucy pinned him with a look that said  _stop being an idiot, you idiot_. “He’s a genius. He’ll figure it out.”

“Hey, miss,” a kid two tables over waved his hand in the air trying to get Lucy’s attention. “Can you follow-up on three Wild Strawberry Frappes?”

Tight smile in place, Lucy nodded to show that she heard them. “Sure.” Turning back to Kendall and James, she gave a long-suffering sigh. “Later, guys.”

James exited the game and closed his laptop, sinking into the seat and inhaling the shop’s calming ambiance. He sagged against the backrest, eyes closing as he tried that meditation technique he’d heard about when anxiety kicked in. “Kendall.”

“What?” Kendall wasn’t looking at James. He was thumbing at his phone and giving it his full attention.

“Am I moving too fast?” James blurted out.

Kendall shrugged, eyes still on his phone. “Hm. Maybe.”

“I am, aren’t I?” Gripping both sides of his face, James stared at his laptop sitting peacefully at the table between them, accompanied by a plate of mango shortcake and coffee drinks. “Oh my god. We’ve only known each other for two weeks! In an MMORPG! What if I read the whole thing wrong?”

“Probably,” Kendall muttered, sipping more of his espresso.

“You’re not helping!” James seethed, grabbing a crumpled tissue from the table and throwing it at Kendall’s face.

The tissue harmlessly bounced off Kendall’s head, falling to the floor beside him. It did, however, manage to pull his attention away from his phone. He glared at James. “What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know, something useful, maybe?” James groused, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Okay.” Kendall pocketed his phone and turned to James with an unpleasant smile. “Let’s start with he’s all the way over in Europe.”

James pouted. “But he’s nice.”

“Second” Kendall raised one finger then another. “The only things you know about him are that he’s studying to be a neurosurgeon, he’s been working to get that Luminary for four months, he’s online from noon to two our time, and that’s it.”

“I gave him my Skype.”

“And that’s good,” Kendall said in a tone that reminded James of that guidance councilor he hated. “You’ll get to know each other better, maybe you’ll get to be friends.”

Nodding and smiling, James could already imagine the conversations where they’d talk until the other falls asleep on him and James would just watch him fondly.

“Which brings us back to point number one,” Kendall interrupted James’ daydreaming. “He’s across the damn big pond.”

“We’ll make it work,” James shot back defensively.

“Do you actually  _know_  of any long distance relationships that worked?” Kendall put down his espresso, looking down at his clock. “Don’t you have an exam to be at right about now?”

“Class got cancelled. Rocque’s at the hospital,” James shrugged, picking up a fork and slicing some of the shortcake.

Kendall stared.

“High blood pressure,” James explained. “Happens every other week.”

* * *

His name is Logan and he looked like nothing James had ever imagined. James thought him more Middle Eastern than European at first sight but he didn’t get far with that thought once Logan greeted him with a laugh.

“Wow...” The screen showed the inside of a dorm room, complete with posters on the wall and a fully booked shelf. Right in front of the screen was Logan, visible from the top of his head to his shoulders, blue cap set backwards on his head and a headset over it.

“H-Hey.” James cleared his throat, blushing at his stutter. “It’s, um, nice to meet you... I guess?” Why was he so nervous, damn it.

“You guess, James?” Logan raised a brow, dimples showing with his smile and James felt like his insides melting because  _holy shit he has an accent_.

 _Get a hold of yourself_ , a voice screamed in James’ head and he straightened up in his seat. “I’m a bit overwhelmed, okay?” he blurted out, pouting before he realized that he wasn’t just typing in a chatbox and that the other guy could actually see his stupid facial expressions.

“What could you possibly be overwhelmed about?” Logan cocked his head curiously, eyes looking directly at his webcam for a second. “I’ve told you before I’m a guy, right? Or did you get me confused with my Luminary?”

“Well she is one hot chick,” James pointed out. “You probably did that on purpose, to lure in hapless gamer geeks like me.”

“Please. You look nothing like a geek,” Logan smirked.

Raising a brow, James leaned closer, “What do I look like, then?”

Logan put a hand to his chin and assumed a thinking pose. “Well you’re not hideous.”

“Is that Gandhi?” James asked, trying not to show how pleased he was with the other’s assessment.

“What?” Logan turned around, finding the poster tacked on his wall and laughing when he faced James again. “You can see that?”

“It’s not exactly hidden,” James grinned. “It’s cool, though, that guy’s my hero. Just...”

“Just what?”

“I didn’t expect big tough science guy like you to have that poster,” James shared, getting the Dr. Pepper that’s been sitting on his study desk untouched for the past five minutes. He took a quick sip then set it back down.

“Big tough science guy? Me?” Logan shook his head in disbelief. “So what’s your major, Renegade?”

“Well I go to the same Uni as Kendall and Lucy,” James paused, realizing that Logan didn’t know them outside the game and he hastily corrected. “That’s knight and prime, by the way.”

“Oh, cool.” Logan has a thinking face on.

“I’m taking up Music, same as Lucy,” James continued. “Kendall’s in Human Kinetics.”

“What instruments do you play?” Logan asked.

“Guitar, drums, but piano’s my favorite.” James couldn’t stop grinning, barely restraining himself from doing a fist pump at the progress they were making. “I’m majoring in Voice.”

“You sing?” Logan looked interested.

“Yeah.” James flipped his bangs out of his face with a quick shake of his head.

“Will I get to hear that any time soon?” Logan typed something, tongue darting out between his lips and wow that  _did not_  help James at all.

“If I can sing you a love song.”

The words were out before James could stop himself and he saw Logan freeze.

“B-Because that’s what we’re practicing at school right now,” James hastily amended. “We’ve got this exam next week where we have to perform and–”

“James.” Logan’s stern tone interrupted him and  _god that accent_. “It’s cool.”

“Really?” James blinked. “I mean, yeah, it’ll be cool. What kind of music do you like? Play any instruments?”

“I’ll listen to anything,” Logan replied. “Playing instruments, not so much... I can beatbox if that counts.”

“You do?” James sat back, suddenly wanting to stall the conversation to ask for a demo.

Logan nodded. “So what are your other interests?”

 _You_ , James wanted to say but it’d be a stupid thing to say so he locked up that revelation deep, deep down until the time would be ripe for it. “Well I like to surf. Actual surfing, at the beach with the waves and not... internet surfing.”

Laughing, Logan’s dimples showed and James may or may not have just screencapped that.

* * *

The music cut off abruptly and James’ eyes snapped open. “Hey!”

“You look like you’re listening to a rated r podfic.” Lucy looked suspiciously at the iPhone in James’ hand, dropping the earphones onto James’ lap.

“Your face was kind of” Kendall gestured to his own face, brows creased with the awkward expression on him “weird.”

“What was that?” Lucy perched on the couch’s armrest, swiping at the gadget which James wasn’t able to stow away in time. She read the screen and pursed her lips. “Logiebear?”

“Give that back,” James protested, grabbing Lucy’s shoulder but she slipped away from him. “That’s personal.”

Lucy froze, eyes going wide in fake surprise. “My god, it is porn.”

“Can you not scream that to the world?” James snatched the iPhone back. “It’s not porn, people, geez,” he said to the rest of the music students lounging at the lobby who were staring at his group.

“So what was that?” Kendall asked, still eyeing the iPhone.

Stuffing the item back in his bag before any more harm befell it, James answered, “Logan’s beatboxing. I sang him Bonnie Tyler in exchange for that. Still trying to convince him to collab. Can you just imagine how awesome that’ll be?”

“You’ve been Skyping with him til one in the morning again,” Kendall accused.

“Psh, no.” James waved him off. “Now come on, my future boyfriend is leading this raid.”


	29. Pirates

When Logan was warned about travelling to the area because of pirates, he thought he’d prepared for the worst.

The seaside community was mellow and hospitable. His hotel accommodations were settled without any problem and the receptionist recommended a good stretch of the beach to go to if he wanted to tan.

He’d been having a pretty good time too, beach towel laid out a perfect distance from the shoreline, the calm call of the ocean lulling him into an easy sleep. This vacation was exactly what the doctor ordered.

Then the pirates attacked. Logan’s only warning were the absence of the seagulls’ cheeping and the harsh turn in the crash of waves. Shadows blocked out the sun and Logan lowered his sunglasses confusedly only to drop them to the sand.

“Look what we have here...”

A band of men in tights surrounded him but that could’ve been just a trick of the sun. A burlap sack was thrown over him and due to the men’s rough handling, Logan lost consciousness when his head collided with a wooden plank.

* * *

“And left, and right, and left, and hoooold...”

The measured instructions started out as a mumbled whisper in Logan’s ear until they grew louder and clearer and Logan woke up to find himself in a bed. Disoriented, he sat up and a parrot plush toy fell to the floor. The whole room was made of wooden planks, there’s a black flag pinned to one wall with a white drawing of a parrot’s face. A porthole was situated above the bed and Logan peered out of it, finding an expanse of sparkling blue water and a very small semblance of land far, far away.

His heart beat faster as panic set in. Logan did a recap: he’s in a room in the middle of the ocean and the last thing he remembered were an oddly dressed bunch of burly men. Face paling, Logan felt like he was going to puke.

The door opened and a short Latino man entered, carrying a bundle of fabric in both hands and cradling a phone between his ear and his shoulder.

“Yeah, we’ll be home by six, seven at the latest–” He paused when his eye found Logan awake and staring at him. The smile on this stranger in a tank top and a speedo grew. “Hey, Katie, I’m gonna have to call you back. Yeah. Laters.” Pulling off the phone and setting it on top of the pile of sheets, he kicked the door shut behind him. “You’re awake. How are you feeling?”

“I don’t have money!” Logan declared. “My family can’t pay your ransom, please send me back.” His panic mixed in with his fear and Logan thought if he sounded helpless enough, these guys would let him go. The reaction he got was nothing close to the kidnappers in the TV shows he’d watched.

“You poor guy,” the stranger gave him a consoling expression, the eye not covered with a black eye patch wide with sympathy. “You’re just confused, is all.” He came closer to the bed and Logan scrambled away, accidentally stepping on the plush parrot that fell earlier.

It let out a squawk. “Ahoy!”

Logan screamed like a four year old, pulling his feet up to his chest while the speedo-wearing guy dropped to his knees and picked up the toy.

“You got Super-Parrot dirty.” A pout was directed at Logan as the other man put the sheets on a corner. He dusted off Super-Parrot and set the plush on his lap. “No need to be scared. I’m Carlos.”

A hand was offered to Logan who shook it hesitantly, slowly curling out of his ball. “I’m Logan. Can you tell me where I am?”

Beaming wide, Carlos stood up, turned around, and pointed to his butt; printed on the backside oft he speedo were the words  _Pirates Super Pirates – Captains of the High Seas_. “Welcome to the S.S. Awesome,” Carlos said, sitting back on the bed.

“That, um,” Logan made a vague pointing gesture to Carlos’ behind. “That said Pirates twice.”

The door burst open and a tall, muscular brunet stood in the doorframe, eyes focused Logan, hands poised on both sides of his hips. “You bet it does,” the new guy said with a nod, bangs displaced over the purple bandanna tied around his forehead. He stepped into the room with a regal gait, black tank top and biking shorts clinging to his toned figure; he smirked at Logan. “And it’s Pi-rah-tees.”

* * *

Forced to change into sweatpants and a white shirt, Logan was led to the deck where exercise mats took up most of the floor space. On an elevated level, a blond man in the same black attire complete with eye patch was yelling out, “And left, and right, and left, and hoooold...” By the impressive black hat with the parrot insignia on his head, Logan figured he was the ship’s captain.

There were at least two dozen people doing stretches as per the blond’s command. Logan recognized a couple as being part of the group who apparently ‘saved’ him from being dragged into the ocean by the briny waves.

James, the guy with the bandanna  _and_  washboard abs as he’d introduced himself, held up a hand to get the captain’s attention.

Noticing James, the captain called for a ten-minute break and the men gratefully slumped over their mats.

Logan wrinkled his nose at the smell of sweat mixing in with the warm afternoon breeze.

“Don’t you just love the smell of a good workout?” The captain asked, taking a big gulp of air and smiling wide. He clapped a hand to Logan’s shoulder. “So who do we have here?”

He looked friendly enough, Logan thought, but then again, he’s the captain of a ship that’s teaching Pilates with a pirate theme in the middle of the ocean so there really was no telling.

“This is Logan. Logan, this is Kendall.” James did the introductions. “The guys picked him up during their lunch break, saved him from drowning.”

“I was sunbathing,” Logan corrected for the millionth time. “Your men did not save me from any sort of danger.”

“Clearly you do not know the ways of the ocean, my friend.” Kendall looked down his impressive nose at Logan. “But you’re on board the S.S. Awesome now and there is nothing to fear.”

“I named the boat,” James whispered to Logan, nodding and smiling with a five-year-old’s sense of pride.

“Good for you.” Logan pushed James away, then picked Kendall’s hand off his shoulder. “Now,  _Captain_ ,” he nodded at Kendall who looked pleased at the address. “I’d really like to be dropped back at the beach where your men abducted me. Good intentions or not, I must insist on departing this ship as soon as possible.”

“Why? You weren’t doing anything important.” James haughtily brushed his bangs out of his eyes, leaning into Logan, he added. “And first Pirates sessions are free, so give it a try.”

“We’re not heading for land until the training finishes at six,” Carlos informed him, the Super-Parrot plush toy still in hand. “Might as well make the most of your time.”

Looking around, Logan saw that he had no escape. Defeated, he held out a hand. “Fine.”

* * *

At the end of the day, Logan’s body sung with a good kind of pain. That Pilates – no, sorry,  _Pirates_  thing was actually relaxing and he kind of did get a tan anyway. His only problem with it was having to do his stretches in front of James. James, who if he had not stressed enough earlier, was easily the most physically fit of the group and was also not afraid to flaunt it. Halfway through the afternoon, James complained about the heat and took off his shirt before proceeding with the routine.

And that... wow, that was... well, it brought a rather interesting reaction from Logan. Sitting cross-legged on the exercise mat, he thanked the heavens he chose loose-fitting sweatpants earlier on.

Carlos was dragging a cooler filled with energy drinks for everyone and Logan was debating whether he should hit the shower before everyone else so he can take care of his problem. In the middle of his internal monologue, Logan found sculpted legs in front of him and a cold bottle set on top on his head. Looking up, he saw James smiling down at him, black tank top draped over one shoulder.

“You earned your sea legs today, landlubber,” James proclaimed, shaking the energy drink in front of Logan’s face.

Seeing that James had another bottle in hand, Logan assumed this one was his. Taking the sweating bottle, Logan smiled. “Thanks.”

James sat down across from Logan and they opened their drinks, he held his out for a toast and Logan complied with a laugh. Taking a cold, refreshing gulp, James waited for Logan to finish drinking before popping his questions. “You’re not from here. Vacationing?”

“I’m from the metro,” Logan responded. “My doctor said my work was stressing me out and suggested taking a break... So yeah, I guess it’s a vacation.”

“Where are you staying?” James asked, sounding casual.

“The Palm Woods,” Logan’s mouth spewed off, alarms in his head sounding too late. Squinting at James, Logan remedied the situation by adding “Why?”

James just nodded and took another gulp. “Well, that’s not too far from the beach,” he smirked at Logan like he knew that the last part was a desperate attempt to sound aloof. “The Pirates Super Pirates – Captains of the High Seas has another Pirates session tomorrow. Check us out at the port on the north side if you’re interested.”

“Do I look interested?” Logan’s brain to mouth filter was officially off. He flushed and dropped his gaze to the mat, taking another drink from his bottle to avoid answering whatever question James might throw at him. To his surprise, James chuckled – quiet like Logan was the only one who was supposed to hear it.

“I’d like it if you were,” James continued in that same sultry tone. When Logan’s eyes snapped to him, dilated pupils spilling everything, his lips spread in a smile revealing perfect teeth. “You know I love sweating but cleaning up is the better part.” Standing up, he made a point of watching Logan’s eyes trail down his body. “Trainer facilities are way cleaner and I got dibs... if you’re interested.” He turned around and left, shouting at Kendall and Carlos that he was taking to the showers.

Logan gulped, face burning and the cold bottle was no help. He drained it all in one gulp but the heat had spread to his insides. A nudge on the back brought his attention to one of the other exercisers.

“Dude that was totally a booty call,” the guy pointed out in hushed tones, jerking his head over to where James went. “Go.”

“What?” Logan squeaked, looking around to see if anyone else had heard but nobody appeared to be listening in.

The guy rolled his eyes at Logan. “Half the guys are only here to get his number and you’ve got a goddamn booty call, I’m going to hate you even more if you don’t take that.”

Blinking, the only thing Logan’s mind decided to process about that whole statement was that half these people wanted James and there was no way Logan was going to let them get him. He stood up and made a beeline to the door James disappeared to.

He hadn’t even taken five steps inside when a door opened and a hand pulled him in. Logan found himself pressed against the door, James’ body lined up against his front, pressure exerted in all the right places. “James,” he moaned, the smell of testosterone in the air frying the last of his sensibility.

“Ever had a guy before, Logan?” James asked, nuzzling up the shorter man’s neck, tasting the sweat with his tongue.

“Ah – A couple of times,” Logan admitted thinly, hands finding James’ impressive biceps and holding on for support as his knees threatened to give in.

“I’m going to make you forget all about them,” James promised, kissing the underside of Logan’s jaw, hands roaming down Logan’s sides and sliding around to cup his ass.

His gasp morphed into a groan when James thrust in at the same time that he pulled Logan against him.  _God that felt good_. Gripping James’ arm, Logan turned his face towards James and engaged those tempting lips. A soft sound of surprise was breathed into him and Logan greedily took it in.

James smirked into the kiss, licking his way into Logan’s mouth and Logan had the oddest feeling that James was going to invade his life just as easily and with as much permission if the way his back arched off the door to give the brunet’s hands space to push down his sweatpants was any indication.


	30. Your Life

Your name is Logan Mitchell and your genius IQ and love for learning easily got you into the most prestigious school in the country. To study art.

The first time you see him is on exam day, he isn’t exactly hard to miss. You sit quietly in your corner, waiting for the proctor to arrive and he’s lounging by a column that only served to compliment his tall stature. You didn’t speak, not a word, not even when your group is led into the classroom and asked to fill up three sheets of papers with drawings – including one of a marble bust you’d later recognize as Venus.

Looking back on it now, you have a vague thought that you might’ve sat next to him, but all you remember from that day were gridlines and the pressure of  _holy shit we’re all artists here_.

* * *

The next clear memory you have is at the lobby, it was probably a Wednesday and the rain just stopped. It’s either first year or second year, first semester or second. Your class doesn’t start until two-thirty so you’re wasting away time at the lobby sketching studies for an assignment.

Your favorite spot is the bench right beside the plaster copy of Apollo, a dear old thing that really should get proper preservation stat but since funds are low, there really isn’t anything you or the college can do. So you’re sketching, minding your own business, when strings of a conversation draft over.

A guy is talking a little too enthusiastically and the sound of his voice is getting louder by the second. You’re used to loud voices here but it’s more than the voice that catches your attention, it’s the topic of conversation. All your time spent vegetating in front of the computer looking for entertainment on the internet suddenly became worth while because there’s this guy – a real, living, breathing guy talking with as much interest about that abridged series you’ve just started to love.

You feel extra conscious when that voice stops literally two feet away from you and you chance a look only to find tall guy with two of his friends having taken the space on the other end of the bench. It’s rude to stare but now that you’re noticing him, you can’t seem to stop paying attention – even when you divert your gaze to your sketchbook your ears are still attuned to his ramblings.

He carries the conversation effortlessly and you so badly want to jump in, to say, “Hi, I love that show, too.” But those things just don’t happen unless you want to look like a creeper. So you pack up your things and head out with a smile.

There’s a plan brewing in your genius mind, you’ll be that guy’s friend even if it’s the last thing you do.

* * *

His name is James Diamond and he’s oozing with self-confidence. He also doesn’t know when to shut up but that’s a good thing, you figure, since you’ve been fascinated with everything that has come out of his mouth so far.

You finally get a class with him, third year. He sticks with his friends, though, and you’re with your own group but one way or another you find yourself talking – to discuss assignments and project plans, but hey, that’s progress and you’re taking every chance you get.

Somewhere near December, the class gets divided into groups of three and you somehow got looped in with him; there’s a little version of you rejoicing in your head. You’re supposed to market a body spray and it’s going all going to depend on the charisma of the promoter, a quick vote hands the role to James.

The look you’re supposed to go for was sleek and professional – which meant having to give James a make-over. He’s all for it and the three of you schedule a mall trip to get him to a hair salon and plan your presentation. He comes out of the salon with his long hair chopped off, looking suave and clean like it’s his business to look like that. This new look steals your breath and James is pretty pleased with himself, posing for the mirrors and spiking up his newly cut hair.

Your group passes the presentation with James’ charm and fluid confidence carrying the whole team.

It’s one project but that’s when you really started hanging out per se, getting lunch together and greeting each other in the hallways.

* * *

It’s not until you two get a class together without your separate bunch of friends that things really start to get somewhere. The class starts at eight in the morning but the professor arrives at nine.

James is always early, he’s driven to school by a chauffer as you understand. The one day you come in wearing matching orange shirts, he smirks and nods in appreciation. He’s chockfull of interesting facts and trivia that you never expected to hear – like, did you know that if humans went extinct, sharks would be the next superior species on earth? You thought you were smart but he’s a whole different level of it, he delivers trivia and Chuck Norris jokes and you can’t help that little warm spot in your heart that starts growing and growing.

The classroom is pretty large and there are only a dozen students to occupy it but you and James sit together on an otherwise empty row.

You never even gave a shit about Transformers or My Little Pony before but he makes them both sound so cool and you kind of wish you knew more so you could contribute something more substantial to the conversation.

“But the things is,” James is saying one morning, a welcome distraction to you as you’re highlighting your class notes. “How do you know if I’m just hitting you” he gave a friendly-ish nudge to your shoulder “or if I’m hitting on you?”

There’s a glint in his eyes when you look up at him. Another kid enters the classroom as if on cue so you don’t really know how to react. It’s two months to graduation but James won’t be graduating with you, he’s been held back a semester so he’d still be here next year.

You only smirk back, unable to find a proper reply but that question would haunt you for weeks after classes are over and you’re already practicing your graduation rites.

* * *

James shows up at the ceremony, dressed in a crisp white button down and navy jeans – nothing like his casual school attire that you’ve been used to. He kept the short hair and spiked up ‘do and it makes you smile. He’s standing by a column near the front and you’re six seats and one row away from him.

The thumping in your chest accelerates for a reason you don’t dare to pinpoint. A sudden clear thought rings in your head: this might as well be the last time you see him in a long while. You want to hug hum, close and tight to lock all the good memories safe and sound. You try to get his attention but his eyes seem to be searching for something and he doesn’t spot you. It’s probably Kendall and Carlos, you think with the slightest bit of self-depreciation, they’re his ‘original’ friends after all so it makes sense that he’s here to support them.

Once the whole affair is done, the parents swarm in for picture taking but you have your own agenda. Walking up to Kendall, you try to sound casual when you ask him if he’d seen James around.

“Sure,” Kendall replies distractedly, eyes out for Carlos in this sea of graduation robes and formal attires. “He was here a minute ago.”

That’s the least helpful thing you’ve gotten from him but you try to understand. It’s been impossible to see Kendall without Carlos beside him and everyone in school is half-convinced they’re secretly dating anyway so you leave them to find their way to each other and continue your search.

You find James seated near the back, flipping through his phone with a paper bag sitting on the chair beside him. He looks up as you approach and the smile that breaks through freezes you in place. “Hey.” And that’s the best greeting you’ve got, overwhelmed by the  _want_  to just hold him (and maybe never let go).

“Congratulations.” James stands up and walks over to you, offering a handshake that you gladly take. His hands are big and warm, solid like their grip.

Smiling, the two of you just stand there, hands clasped together for a couple of long seconds. You don’t hear your mother come up but she’s there with a camera all of a sudden and she demands a photo. It goes without saying that James is photogenic. He agrees and puts his arm around your shoulders, you move in close without need for prompting and flash the biggest smile you can muster.

James doesn’t pull away immediately once the shot is taken and the weight of his arm on you is something you’re easily finding comfortable. You lift your face to him to find that he’s looking down at you and it’s perfect kissing distance.

The thought staggers you and you flinch away, feeling heat rising in your cheeks. “Can I get a hug?” you ask, daring to look up at him again. James spreads his arms wide and you practically paste yourself onto him. He smells so good and the way he pats your back only adds to the contact you’ve been craving. It would probably be too much if you started swaying so you content yourself to standing still. There’s a flash of a camera that brings you two apart, finding your mother smiling fondly at the both of you.

Joanna asks for more photos with your other classmates and you promise her later.

“Are you going to be there for the University Graduation?” you ask James, arms reluctantly falling back to your side.

“That depends,” James answers, thumb hooking to the pockets of his jeans. “Are you going to be free for dinner after?”

“Sure,” you shrug, making a mental note to tell your mom she’s not required to attend the ceremony. “Kendall and Carlos are over there, we can–”

“No, not them, I’m asking you.” James’ expression turns meaningful and your throat closes up because  _oh._

_Oh. Oh, wow._

“Should I ask your mom for permission?” James grins and you playfully push him away.

“I’ll take care of that,” you tell him. “So Sunday. Dinner.”

“My treat,” James finishes.

It’s impossible to contain your excitement but you manage to come up with, “Okay.”


End file.
